Well, it's almost over.
2006, that is.
But, fear not, loyal readers, I am here for you -- providing one last post for you this year. I have given up my New Year's Eve plans so that I could be here for you.
Yeah, right. Actually, New Year's Eve hasn't really been a big party time for me. Can't even remember the last party I was at to celebrate it. Will try to watch the ball drop tonight, but I'll inevitably end up falling asleep in my chair, waking up at like 1:30 and going, Damn, missed it again.
You can tell I'm concerned.
Some final ramblings for the year:
Happy Birthday, Molly. No need for a card, right? I know you're reading this.
My son, who has decided that, apparently, I'm the meanest man in the world, forgot about that for a minute tonight to say, "Happy New Year, Daddy." No matter how tough a day it had been, all was right with the world once he said that.
I'm going to try and watch Saw tonight. Fun New Year's Eve entertainment, I know.
Still have our Christmas tree up. Longest we've gone. Probably will come down tomorrow.
I took this entire week off, but it always goes by sooo fast. Lots on the do list at the start of the week. Lots there now.
Haven't made up a list of resolutions yet. But, I hope to do that. The last few years, I've done pretty well in that department.
How long into 2007 before I stop writing 2006 on checks and stuff?
Why was I sitting at the computer the other night waiting to see who was first to have pictures of Saddam?
New Year's Eve....and no snow yet. Weird.
2006 was a very good year. No complaints anywhere.
2007 -- sure to be an amazing one as well.
Especially June 20.
Because that's the due date of our second child. Gulp.
What else? I got nothin'.
Sunday, December 31, 2006
Thursday, December 28, 2006
The Magic of Christmas
The Christmas whirlwind has ended -- I think.
But, while I wonder how this post-Christmas week (which I always take for vacation) always go by so fast, it's fun to remember some of the very cool things that happened during any of our three Christmases.
First, my family gathers at my mom's on Christmas Eve. Chinese food is the traditional meal before presents. Then, we gather in the living room, over stuffing it as best we can.
I have three siblings. This year, we decided to draw names among siblings and spouses/significant others. It worked out pretty well. We bought for one person in that group and then everyone bought for the kids.
Despite that plan, however, it seemed like there were more gifts than ever under Mom's always great-looking tree.
My son opened his first package and basically threw it down in disgust. It was sort of funny. He got clothes as his first present....and while all the other clothes he got were a hit, this first present wasn't so much a winner. A toy would have been better. But, what can you do.
He did amazingly well and got lots of great stuff.
Then, Christmas morning was at our house. He was into Christmas so much this year. Totally getting everything. My wife and I were excited for what Christmas morning was going to be like. He woke up at 6 a.m., which was great. For the first 10 minutes as he woke up, it was like a normal day. We were just talking to him in his crib, nothing major.
Then, it was like something went off in his head...he sort of stopped in the middle of talking, looked quizzically at us both and said, "Santa come?"
And from that point on, the next two hours were pure magic. I'll never do it justice with words, but it might have been the most fun time yet as a parent. This was just the perfect age for him and Christmas. So innocent. So fun.
Then, after our house, we did it all over again -- this time at my in-laws. We went over for breakfast and then did our third set of presents in less than 24 hours. Pretty good odds for a 2 1/2 year old. More great stuff for him. More smiles. More wonder. More just pure Christmas joy.
I knew it would be fun this year. But this was more than I could have imagined.
What else? I got nothin'.
But, while I wonder how this post-Christmas week (which I always take for vacation) always go by so fast, it's fun to remember some of the very cool things that happened during any of our three Christmases.
First, my family gathers at my mom's on Christmas Eve. Chinese food is the traditional meal before presents. Then, we gather in the living room, over stuffing it as best we can.
I have three siblings. This year, we decided to draw names among siblings and spouses/significant others. It worked out pretty well. We bought for one person in that group and then everyone bought for the kids.
Despite that plan, however, it seemed like there were more gifts than ever under Mom's always great-looking tree.
My son opened his first package and basically threw it down in disgust. It was sort of funny. He got clothes as his first present....and while all the other clothes he got were a hit, this first present wasn't so much a winner. A toy would have been better. But, what can you do.
He did amazingly well and got lots of great stuff.
Then, Christmas morning was at our house. He was into Christmas so much this year. Totally getting everything. My wife and I were excited for what Christmas morning was going to be like. He woke up at 6 a.m., which was great. For the first 10 minutes as he woke up, it was like a normal day. We were just talking to him in his crib, nothing major.
Then, it was like something went off in his head...he sort of stopped in the middle of talking, looked quizzically at us both and said, "Santa come?"
And from that point on, the next two hours were pure magic. I'll never do it justice with words, but it might have been the most fun time yet as a parent. This was just the perfect age for him and Christmas. So innocent. So fun.
Then, after our house, we did it all over again -- this time at my in-laws. We went over for breakfast and then did our third set of presents in less than 24 hours. Pretty good odds for a 2 1/2 year old. More great stuff for him. More smiles. More wonder. More just pure Christmas joy.
I knew it would be fun this year. But this was more than I could have imagined.
What else? I got nothin'.
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Wednesday Ramblings
A few odds and ends for you on this hump day. It's a big hump for me, actually. Today is my last day of work until January 2. Can I get a woo-hoo?!
Woo-hoo.
There, much better.
First up, have to share something with you from my son, who is two-and-a-half. We're working diligently on potty training. We are trying to get him to spend less and less time in diapers during the day. Knowing that, here's how a conversation went this morning:
Him: Daddy, I have diaper on?
Me: Yes, buddy, you do.
Him: Moments of silence why he does his 'work.'
Me: Ok, buddy, let's get you cleaned up before we have to go.
Him: Not done, daddy.
Me: Still poopin'?
Him: One more poop, Daddy. Yes, sir!
The "yes, sir" was hysterical. You probably had to be there.
Ok, next up....
I mentioned how our office is getting a number of gifts from vendors. Again, I appreciate the thought and the effort. I really do.
But, here's the thing: All boxes of assorted chocolates need to have a map or guide included. this way, you wont' bite into the creamy nougat flavored one (which you then have to throw away) when you really wanted to bite into the white chocolate truffle.
Do we need government legislation on this? How can we protect our interest to know that we'll never bite into crappy chocolate again?
And, speaking of chocolate, don't mix fruit with my chocolate. Forget about raspberry or strawberry -- or, god forbid, orange -- flavored chocolate. If I want chocolate. That's all I want.
Shopping's not done. Not feeling too stressed. Yet.
What else? I got nothin'.
Woo-hoo.
There, much better.
First up, have to share something with you from my son, who is two-and-a-half. We're working diligently on potty training. We are trying to get him to spend less and less time in diapers during the day. Knowing that, here's how a conversation went this morning:
Him: Daddy, I have diaper on?
Me: Yes, buddy, you do.
Him: Moments of silence why he does his 'work.'
Me: Ok, buddy, let's get you cleaned up before we have to go.
Him: Not done, daddy.
Me: Still poopin'?
Him: One more poop, Daddy. Yes, sir!
The "yes, sir" was hysterical. You probably had to be there.
Ok, next up....
I mentioned how our office is getting a number of gifts from vendors. Again, I appreciate the thought and the effort. I really do.
But, here's the thing: All boxes of assorted chocolates need to have a map or guide included. this way, you wont' bite into the creamy nougat flavored one (which you then have to throw away) when you really wanted to bite into the white chocolate truffle.
Do we need government legislation on this? How can we protect our interest to know that we'll never bite into crappy chocolate again?
And, speaking of chocolate, don't mix fruit with my chocolate. Forget about raspberry or strawberry -- or, god forbid, orange -- flavored chocolate. If I want chocolate. That's all I want.
Shopping's not done. Not feeling too stressed. Yet.
What else? I got nothin'.
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year
Ok, consider this the official Christmas rambling entry.
Here goes.
I realized this year that I'm fine with the standard form letter that comes in Christmas cards. I was never a big fan. But this year, I realized, you know what, they come from people that are my friends. If not, why are they on the card list in the first place? So, if I don't talk to them that often, isn't it good to catch up with them -- even if it's through a letter that me and God knows how many other people are getting?
Speaking of Christmas cards, I think it's funny -- very funny -- when you get a card from a couple and one person (usually the woman) writes out the greeting and then signs her name, followed by the guy just signing his name. It just looks funny. At least to me.
Gift baskets. Gift baskets. Gift baskets. The office is loading up on gifts from vendors. The early favorites? Ginger lemon cookies, some cheesey sourdough things, peanuts that don't really taste like peanuts (yet we like them) and, of course, chocolate. Lots of chocolate.
I just realized this morning that I haven't heard the Hanukkah song once this year.
My son has a new job at home -- plugging in the Christmas tree each morning. Not sure which is brighter...the lights on the tree or the magic in his eyes.
I'm all for charity. I really am. But how annoying is that Salvation Army bell?
In other office gift news. I've had someone plant a tree in my name, as well as someone donating a bike in my name.
That's nice and all. But, don't these people know that there are other things I need.
What else? I got nothin.
Here goes.
I realized this year that I'm fine with the standard form letter that comes in Christmas cards. I was never a big fan. But this year, I realized, you know what, they come from people that are my friends. If not, why are they on the card list in the first place? So, if I don't talk to them that often, isn't it good to catch up with them -- even if it's through a letter that me and God knows how many other people are getting?
Speaking of Christmas cards, I think it's funny -- very funny -- when you get a card from a couple and one person (usually the woman) writes out the greeting and then signs her name, followed by the guy just signing his name. It just looks funny. At least to me.
Gift baskets. Gift baskets. Gift baskets. The office is loading up on gifts from vendors. The early favorites? Ginger lemon cookies, some cheesey sourdough things, peanuts that don't really taste like peanuts (yet we like them) and, of course, chocolate. Lots of chocolate.
I just realized this morning that I haven't heard the Hanukkah song once this year.
My son has a new job at home -- plugging in the Christmas tree each morning. Not sure which is brighter...the lights on the tree or the magic in his eyes.
I'm all for charity. I really am. But how annoying is that Salvation Army bell?
In other office gift news. I've had someone plant a tree in my name, as well as someone donating a bike in my name.
That's nice and all. But, don't these people know that there are other things I need.
What else? I got nothin.
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
All You Have to Do is Ask
It's amazing sometimes, how asking a simple question can benefit you in the long run.
I'm incredibly anal about customer service. I expect it. And I expect it to be great. And if it's not, I'm the guy who complains about it.
See the sign on a truck in front of you, "How's my driving?" Well, I'm the guy who tells him.
It's always fun to see how things work, too. Got my credit card bill the other day. We always pay the balance in full. But, due to paycheck timing and the Thanksgiving holiday, my check apparently arrived on the same day it was due. Citibank tagged me with a $39 late fee and then finance charges to boot.
So, I called them up and explained that I was a longtime customer who always paid on time and given the holiday, could they please wipe the charge. "No problem, sir, we'd be happy to." Saved myself $45 with a 30 second phone call.
Had something weird on my Directv bill the other day, too. It wasn't a charge, but I didn't understand something, so I called to make sure that I eventually understood what they said. Then, during the conversation, the phone rep makes some reference to my past experiences with the company.
At that point, I said I was always happy, even after my first year when they gave me a month of Showtime just for lasting a year with Directv. He said they appreciate that type of feedback. So I said, well, how can I get that again? Do you ever run promos or anything.
He then offered me three-free months of all the Showtime channels.
"What's the catch?" I asked.
"No catch, sir."
"None?"
"Nothing at all. We just want to keep you as a customer."
They sure will. And I'm glad I asked.
So, what else? I got nothin'.
I'm incredibly anal about customer service. I expect it. And I expect it to be great. And if it's not, I'm the guy who complains about it.
See the sign on a truck in front of you, "How's my driving?" Well, I'm the guy who tells him.
It's always fun to see how things work, too. Got my credit card bill the other day. We always pay the balance in full. But, due to paycheck timing and the Thanksgiving holiday, my check apparently arrived on the same day it was due. Citibank tagged me with a $39 late fee and then finance charges to boot.
So, I called them up and explained that I was a longtime customer who always paid on time and given the holiday, could they please wipe the charge. "No problem, sir, we'd be happy to." Saved myself $45 with a 30 second phone call.
Had something weird on my Directv bill the other day, too. It wasn't a charge, but I didn't understand something, so I called to make sure that I eventually understood what they said. Then, during the conversation, the phone rep makes some reference to my past experiences with the company.
At that point, I said I was always happy, even after my first year when they gave me a month of Showtime just for lasting a year with Directv. He said they appreciate that type of feedback. So I said, well, how can I get that again? Do you ever run promos or anything.
He then offered me three-free months of all the Showtime channels.
"What's the catch?" I asked.
"No catch, sir."
"None?"
"Nothing at all. We just want to keep you as a customer."
They sure will. And I'm glad I asked.
So, what else? I got nothin'.
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
Where Do You Sit?
Faitful readers, thank you for the response to the last question. An interesting topic. As I think this one is, too.
Now that I know where you sleep, I want to know where you sit.
I'm talking about when you go out to dinner with your significant other. So, two of you at the restaurant.
Now, there are two scenarios in play here.
First, the booth:
Do you sit across from each other? Or, do you sit on the same side of the booth, leaving the opposite side empty?
I could never imagine sitting on the same side as my wife. I just don't get that. Besides the fact that it looks strange, doesn't it hurt your neck if you have to keep turning to talk to the other person?
The only time I can see sitting on the same side as your signficant other in a booth is if you are with another couple (or kids or something). But, when it's just the two of you, I just can't figure that out.
Second scenario, the table:
Ok, so it's just two of you again. This time, you're sitting at a table with four chairs. Where do you sit? Do you face each other on opposite sides of the table? Or, doe you sit 'next' to each other by sitting at perpendicular sides of the table?
This one is a little more flexible, I think. Again, my wife and I would typically be opposite of each other. That's not always the case, though. I can't think of a scenario right now, but I know we have abandoned the opposite thing once or twice. It's more of a case-by-case basis than the booth scenario.
So, my faithful readers, where do you sit?
What else? I got nothin'.
Now that I know where you sleep, I want to know where you sit.
I'm talking about when you go out to dinner with your significant other. So, two of you at the restaurant.
Now, there are two scenarios in play here.
First, the booth:
Do you sit across from each other? Or, do you sit on the same side of the booth, leaving the opposite side empty?
I could never imagine sitting on the same side as my wife. I just don't get that. Besides the fact that it looks strange, doesn't it hurt your neck if you have to keep turning to talk to the other person?
The only time I can see sitting on the same side as your signficant other in a booth is if you are with another couple (or kids or something). But, when it's just the two of you, I just can't figure that out.
Second scenario, the table:
Ok, so it's just two of you again. This time, you're sitting at a table with four chairs. Where do you sit? Do you face each other on opposite sides of the table? Or, doe you sit 'next' to each other by sitting at perpendicular sides of the table?
This one is a little more flexible, I think. Again, my wife and I would typically be opposite of each other. That's not always the case, though. I can't think of a scenario right now, but I know we have abandoned the opposite thing once or twice. It's more of a case-by-case basis than the booth scenario.
So, my faithful readers, where do you sit?
What else? I got nothin'.
Thursday, November 30, 2006
Where Do You Sleep?
Faithful readers, a question for you. Actually, a question for those of you who are in fact sharing a bed with a partner.
Where do you sleep?
No smart remarks like, "in a bed."
The thing is this. Stand at the foot of the bed.
Using that perspective, I'm guessing 90 percent of the guys sleep on the right half of the bed and that women are sleeping on the left side.
First of all, am I right?
Secondly, what's the deal? Is this weird?
Or is it just me?
Wait. Don't answer that.
So, let's hear it.
What else? I got nothin'.
Where do you sleep?
No smart remarks like, "in a bed."
The thing is this. Stand at the foot of the bed.
Using that perspective, I'm guessing 90 percent of the guys sleep on the right half of the bed and that women are sleeping on the left side.
First of all, am I right?
Secondly, what's the deal? Is this weird?
Or is it just me?
Wait. Don't answer that.
So, let's hear it.
What else? I got nothin'.
Friday, November 17, 2006
I'm Baaaaaaack
Loyal readers, your patience has been tested. And, today, it is rewarded.
I have awaken from my slumber. I am back. And you reap the benefits.
So many topics. Where do I start? Well, how about some random thoughts so I can catch you up on things in my world.
After all, isn't that why you're here?
Is Thanksgiving really next week? I love Thanksgiving. Why? Because I love cranberry sauce in the can. And here's the thing about that. It's not sauce. If it were sauce, why would it be like jello? Don't you pour a sauce? That's my judgment on whether or not something is a sauce. Try it. You can't poor cranberry sauce (the smooth kind, I'm talking about) out of a can. But, that's the name. And I love it.
I'm sick and tired of the "mid-season" or "fall" finale in TV land. What's up with that?
I love my son. Can't love any more than I love him. We're potty training. (He's 2 and 1/2.) We've got the nighttime thing down pat. So now we're working on other times during the day. So this morning, I'm eating breakfast, mom's already at work and he's playing with his trains in the other room without a diaper.
Next thing I hear is, "Daddy get potty."
I'm pretty excited at this point. Wow. He could feel it and he told me. He knows what's coming. Well, almost. I get over there to find him with soaking wet sweat pants, a pee puddle on the rug and big 'ol smile on his face. "A went potty." Yes, he did.
I'm 37. I shouldn't get zits.
I understand why construction guys where hard hats when they are on the site. But, my god, why do they where them all the time -- even when they are nowhere near the site? Someone just walked by my window with a hard hat. The site is probalby a half-mile from where he is. Is he afraid of things falling out of the sky and bopping him on the head? Weird.
I'm hungry. Fish and chips at the Portugese Club. Nobody makes fish and chips better than them. Well, except for me when I was the fastest (and best) fry cook in the world 20 years ago.
It's weird that I can say, "20 years ago." Makes me feel crazy old. But I don't feel crazy old. Does that make sense?
That's all for now, I think.
What else? I got nothin'.
I have awaken from my slumber. I am back. And you reap the benefits.
So many topics. Where do I start? Well, how about some random thoughts so I can catch you up on things in my world.
After all, isn't that why you're here?
Is Thanksgiving really next week? I love Thanksgiving. Why? Because I love cranberry sauce in the can. And here's the thing about that. It's not sauce. If it were sauce, why would it be like jello? Don't you pour a sauce? That's my judgment on whether or not something is a sauce. Try it. You can't poor cranberry sauce (the smooth kind, I'm talking about) out of a can. But, that's the name. And I love it.
I'm sick and tired of the "mid-season" or "fall" finale in TV land. What's up with that?
I love my son. Can't love any more than I love him. We're potty training. (He's 2 and 1/2.) We've got the nighttime thing down pat. So now we're working on other times during the day. So this morning, I'm eating breakfast, mom's already at work and he's playing with his trains in the other room without a diaper.
Next thing I hear is, "Daddy get potty."
I'm pretty excited at this point. Wow. He could feel it and he told me. He knows what's coming. Well, almost. I get over there to find him with soaking wet sweat pants, a pee puddle on the rug and big 'ol smile on his face. "A went potty." Yes, he did.
I'm 37. I shouldn't get zits.
I understand why construction guys where hard hats when they are on the site. But, my god, why do they where them all the time -- even when they are nowhere near the site? Someone just walked by my window with a hard hat. The site is probalby a half-mile from where he is. Is he afraid of things falling out of the sky and bopping him on the head? Weird.
I'm hungry. Fish and chips at the Portugese Club. Nobody makes fish and chips better than them. Well, except for me when I was the fastest (and best) fry cook in the world 20 years ago.
It's weird that I can say, "20 years ago." Makes me feel crazy old. But I don't feel crazy old. Does that make sense?
That's all for now, I think.
What else? I got nothin'.
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Two More Thoughts
I'm always up for a quickie. So here goes:
I was crazy thirsty this afternoon. So, I coined a phrase. Think about it. If you are starving, you say, "I'm so hungry I could eat a horse."
Well, if you're thirsty, what do you say? See what I mean. There's nothing.
Until now.
I know it's horrible, but it's what I came up with on the fly and I'm going to the copyright office on this one.
"I'm so thirsty I could empty a reservoir."
Don't like it? Give me your best effort.
NEWSFLASH -- Britney is divorcing Kevin.
Her career sky rockets. His plummets.
And, Brit, I'm here if you need a shoulder to cry on. (I'm sorry, I'm a fan.)
What else? I got nothin.
I was crazy thirsty this afternoon. So, I coined a phrase. Think about it. If you are starving, you say, "I'm so hungry I could eat a horse."
Well, if you're thirsty, what do you say? See what I mean. There's nothing.
Until now.
I know it's horrible, but it's what I came up with on the fly and I'm going to the copyright office on this one.
"I'm so thirsty I could empty a reservoir."
Don't like it? Give me your best effort.
NEWSFLASH -- Britney is divorcing Kevin.
Her career sky rockets. His plummets.
And, Brit, I'm here if you need a shoulder to cry on. (I'm sorry, I'm a fan.)
What else? I got nothin.
Empyting Out a Cluttered Mind...
Did you vote yet? What are you waiting for!
My son is 2 and 1/2. He said today that he doesn't know what he wants to be when he grows up. That's OK, I told him. Daddy doesn't either. I'm 37.
Had a vanilla shake today. Only problem was, it tasted like chocolate. It's like getting french fries that taste like onion rings. Hate that.
I think I'm addicted to eBay. I'm buying Thomas the Tank stuff for my son. Stuff I can't wait to play with! Everything I'm buying is brand new. And I haven't paid anything near regular retail price.
Kirstie Alley in a bikini? I'm sorry. No interest in that.
Cindy Margolis not in a bikini? Much interest in that.
Why aren't you watching Brothers & Sisters?
90210 and Melrose Place are out today. To those of you buying me Christmas presents -- hint, hint.
Why don't they paint lines on the street at night, as opposed to 7:30 this morning in the middle of the morning rush?
What else? I got nothin'.
My son is 2 and 1/2. He said today that he doesn't know what he wants to be when he grows up. That's OK, I told him. Daddy doesn't either. I'm 37.
Had a vanilla shake today. Only problem was, it tasted like chocolate. It's like getting french fries that taste like onion rings. Hate that.
I think I'm addicted to eBay. I'm buying Thomas the Tank stuff for my son. Stuff I can't wait to play with! Everything I'm buying is brand new. And I haven't paid anything near regular retail price.
Kirstie Alley in a bikini? I'm sorry. No interest in that.
Cindy Margolis not in a bikini? Much interest in that.
Why aren't you watching Brothers & Sisters?
90210 and Melrose Place are out today. To those of you buying me Christmas presents -- hint, hint.
Why don't they paint lines on the street at night, as opposed to 7:30 this morning in the middle of the morning rush?
What else? I got nothin'.
Monday, November 06, 2006
Enough with the Discrimination
I'm sick of it. Really. I never thought it would get to this. To a point where I had to appeal to you, loyal readers, for support. But, here we are.
I am fed up with the discrimination.
Not because I'm white.
Not because I'm Catholic.
Not because I'm straight.
Because I drink orange juice.
Yup, I, and others like me, am a victim of discrimination.
Here's the scenario. You've seen it a hundred times. I'll play the starring role.
I'm in a restaurant, let's say it's my and my better half out for breakfast. She orders coffee. First of all, unless you're going to Fourbucks, it's usually only $.99 or something silly like that. In addition, it's always a bottomless cup.
Think about it, how often when you're out to dinner does the waiter/waitress come by and ask, "More coffee?"
Well, no more coffee for me. I don't drink it. I drink orange juice.
Back at the table, after my better half orders coffee, I order a glass of juice. The first problem is the price -- it's at least $1.75, but these days, it's not a surprise to find it more than $2 and sometimes even higher.
But that's just the beginning. There are two more major elements in play.
First, the size. And, ladies (and gentlemen), here's where size matters. I just paid more than $2 for a glass of juice and it's 8 ounces or something foolish like that.
What's worse?
That's just for the one cup. There will be no waiter or waitress coming around asking if I'd like to "refresh" my juice.
See what I'm saying?
Juice drinkers of the world, we must unite.
It's bad enough I always have to answer the question about why I don't drink coffee. But now, I have to, more than ever, defend my choice to drink orange juice. Or, god forbid, defend my choice of asking for a second glass -- of which I know I will have to pay.
Do you feel my pain?
What else? I got nothin'.
I am fed up with the discrimination.
Not because I'm white.
Not because I'm Catholic.
Not because I'm straight.
Because I drink orange juice.
Yup, I, and others like me, am a victim of discrimination.
Here's the scenario. You've seen it a hundred times. I'll play the starring role.
I'm in a restaurant, let's say it's my and my better half out for breakfast. She orders coffee. First of all, unless you're going to Fourbucks, it's usually only $.99 or something silly like that. In addition, it's always a bottomless cup.
Think about it, how often when you're out to dinner does the waiter/waitress come by and ask, "More coffee?"
Well, no more coffee for me. I don't drink it. I drink orange juice.
Back at the table, after my better half orders coffee, I order a glass of juice. The first problem is the price -- it's at least $1.75, but these days, it's not a surprise to find it more than $2 and sometimes even higher.
But that's just the beginning. There are two more major elements in play.
First, the size. And, ladies (and gentlemen), here's where size matters. I just paid more than $2 for a glass of juice and it's 8 ounces or something foolish like that.
What's worse?
That's just for the one cup. There will be no waiter or waitress coming around asking if I'd like to "refresh" my juice.
See what I'm saying?
Juice drinkers of the world, we must unite.
It's bad enough I always have to answer the question about why I don't drink coffee. But now, I have to, more than ever, defend my choice to drink orange juice. Or, god forbid, defend my choice of asking for a second glass -- of which I know I will have to pay.
Do you feel my pain?
What else? I got nothin'.
Friday, November 03, 2006
They Screw You at the Drive-Thru
The whole purpose of the drive-thru is convenience.
Be it at a bank, drug store, fast food restaurant or, in some places, even a package store, the point is providing the customer (me!) with a quick experience. No need to get out of the car if you don't have to.
For this rant, we're focusing on the fast food drive thru -- McDonald's in particular.
It's rare that I stop under the golden arches for breakfast. But, this morning was different. Junior woke up late, which threw our typical morning routine off, which meant I didn't have breakfast. So, after dropping him off, I started contemplating breakfast options.
And then it hit me. I hadn't had the world's greatest breakfast sandwich in quite a while.
I'm talking about the Sausage McMuffin with Egg.
Take that back. It's not the greatest breakfast sandwich. It's better than that. In fact, I'll go so far as call it the best fast food sandwich -- breakfast or otherwise.
So, I pull into the drive-thru lane. And then I change my mind. I never change my mind. But, today, I did.
I opted for the McGriddle. Have never had it, so figured why not give that a try. Live on the edge. Think out of the box. Push the envelope. You get the idea.
I pull up to the window, give the guy my money and take my bag (I got the hashbrown, too) and my juice (just wait until you read my rant on the unfair treatment of juice drinkers).
I get to the office, settle in, call up the local daily on the web and start to read while finishing off my hashbrown -- which, for reasons I don't really have, I always eat first.
Then, I reach in my bag and pull out a hefty sandwich in a labelled wrap that says "bacon egg and cheese bagel."
B-A-G-E-L.
You're kidding me. I didn't order a bagel. I ordered a McGriddle. I should have ordered a Sausage McMuffin with Egg, but on this day of great adventure, I go for the McGriddle.
But it's not there.
At this point it's too late and too complicated to drive back. Ugh. Another drive-thru meltdown at the hands of someone who doesn't care about customer service.
I wanted it to taste good. But it didn't. How could it? Not only was it something I didn't want. It was something I would never order. But, I was hungry. So I ate it.
And as I was eating it, I thought about checking the order at the drive-thru. But who does that? Really. Do you? I don't. But I probably will now. Doing that, though, defeats the entire purpose of the drive-thru. Fast service. Not getting your stuff and opening the bag to check it while everyone is sitting in their car behind you.
Ugh. I should have stuck with the stand by. See what happens when you try and mix it up?
What else? I got nothin'.
Be it at a bank, drug store, fast food restaurant or, in some places, even a package store, the point is providing the customer (me!) with a quick experience. No need to get out of the car if you don't have to.
For this rant, we're focusing on the fast food drive thru -- McDonald's in particular.
It's rare that I stop under the golden arches for breakfast. But, this morning was different. Junior woke up late, which threw our typical morning routine off, which meant I didn't have breakfast. So, after dropping him off, I started contemplating breakfast options.
And then it hit me. I hadn't had the world's greatest breakfast sandwich in quite a while.
I'm talking about the Sausage McMuffin with Egg.
Take that back. It's not the greatest breakfast sandwich. It's better than that. In fact, I'll go so far as call it the best fast food sandwich -- breakfast or otherwise.
So, I pull into the drive-thru lane. And then I change my mind. I never change my mind. But, today, I did.
I opted for the McGriddle. Have never had it, so figured why not give that a try. Live on the edge. Think out of the box. Push the envelope. You get the idea.
I pull up to the window, give the guy my money and take my bag (I got the hashbrown, too) and my juice (just wait until you read my rant on the unfair treatment of juice drinkers).
I get to the office, settle in, call up the local daily on the web and start to read while finishing off my hashbrown -- which, for reasons I don't really have, I always eat first.
Then, I reach in my bag and pull out a hefty sandwich in a labelled wrap that says "bacon egg and cheese bagel."
B-A-G-E-L.
You're kidding me. I didn't order a bagel. I ordered a McGriddle. I should have ordered a Sausage McMuffin with Egg, but on this day of great adventure, I go for the McGriddle.
But it's not there.
At this point it's too late and too complicated to drive back. Ugh. Another drive-thru meltdown at the hands of someone who doesn't care about customer service.
I wanted it to taste good. But it didn't. How could it? Not only was it something I didn't want. It was something I would never order. But, I was hungry. So I ate it.
And as I was eating it, I thought about checking the order at the drive-thru. But who does that? Really. Do you? I don't. But I probably will now. Doing that, though, defeats the entire purpose of the drive-thru. Fast service. Not getting your stuff and opening the bag to check it while everyone is sitting in their car behind you.
Ugh. I should have stuck with the stand by. See what happens when you try and mix it up?
What else? I got nothin'.
Monday, October 30, 2006
What's Old is New Again
My son loves fire trucks. No, wait. That's not right. Let me start over.
My son LOVES LOVES LOVES LOVES fire trucks.
While at my in-laws (where he stays during the day), he got a great treat -- playing with an old Tonka fire truck that used to be my brother in law's.
Well, seeing that reminded me of my old Tonka fire truck. I told my son to remind me about it the next time we went to my mom's.
We were there this weekend. I had completely forgotten about it -- until he came up to me and said, "Daddy old fire truck?"
A-ha! That's right. Daddy's old fire truck.
So, up to the attic we went. He climbed the steep dark stairs in a quest for another fire truck. And there it was. Just sitting there. Not covered. Just one really old (yet still really cool) red Tonka fire truck.
The cool feature of this truck is that its a bucket loader truck -- or, apparently in fire truck speak, a snorkel truck. So, he immediately started raising the bucket.
U
P
A
N
D
D
O
W
N
Non stop. I'm sure we'd still be up in the attic unless I carried him (holding the fire truck) down the stairs.
We got home and there was immediately a comparison between "old daddy fire truck" and his others.
(Mine, of course, is the coolest.)
It doesn't matter that this truck is more than 30 years old. It doesn't matter that the two side ladders are missing. It doesn't matter that part of the hose from the side is not working right.
What matters is that it's a fire truck. And to my son, it's perfect.
It was for me, too.
What else? I got nothin'.
My son LOVES LOVES LOVES LOVES fire trucks.
While at my in-laws (where he stays during the day), he got a great treat -- playing with an old Tonka fire truck that used to be my brother in law's.
Well, seeing that reminded me of my old Tonka fire truck. I told my son to remind me about it the next time we went to my mom's.
We were there this weekend. I had completely forgotten about it -- until he came up to me and said, "Daddy old fire truck?"
A-ha! That's right. Daddy's old fire truck.
So, up to the attic we went. He climbed the steep dark stairs in a quest for another fire truck. And there it was. Just sitting there. Not covered. Just one really old (yet still really cool) red Tonka fire truck.
The cool feature of this truck is that its a bucket loader truck -- or, apparently in fire truck speak, a snorkel truck. So, he immediately started raising the bucket.
U
P
A
N
D
D
O
W
N
Non stop. I'm sure we'd still be up in the attic unless I carried him (holding the fire truck) down the stairs.
We got home and there was immediately a comparison between "old daddy fire truck" and his others.
(Mine, of course, is the coolest.)
It doesn't matter that this truck is more than 30 years old. It doesn't matter that the two side ladders are missing. It doesn't matter that part of the hose from the side is not working right.
What matters is that it's a fire truck. And to my son, it's perfect.
It was for me, too.
What else? I got nothin'.
Saturday, October 28, 2006
Rain, Rain Go Away
It's raining today. Pouring actually. Not to mention the 35 m.p.h. wind. These are not days you like when your basement can act up on you. Thankfully, the worst is behind us (I hope), and nothing bad has happened. Yet.
So, it's been a crazy week. I seem to be saying that a lot lately. Regardless, I owe you a few thoughts, so here they are -- in no particular order.
My birthday is coming. It's Wednesday. Forty is getting closer and closer. Ugh. Don't feel anywhere near it, though, so that's a good thing. Right?
The day before my birthday is Halloween. The boy wonder is 2 and a 1/2 this year. We are hoping this becomes his official trick-or-treating debut. He's even got the "trick or treat" part down for when people answer the door.
So what's the problem? Well, not sure if he'll be in a costume or not. We finally landed on Thomas the Tank Engine as the preferred costume. The problem is that once we actually got the costume, he's wanted nothing -- and I mean nothing -- to do with it. So, we'll see!
Chocolate chip pancakes for dinner tonight. Love breakfast for dinner. I'm just saying.
Why am I so excited that the Dancing with the Stars tour is coming nearby?
Are you watching Six Degrees? You should be.
Speaking of TV, I do love the Vegas. Well, Las Vegas. It's perfect mindless television. I also loved the old Vegas -- remember Dan Tanna? Yup, I do. I don't remember what I had for lunch yesterday, but I remember Dan Tanna.
November 7 is election day. And, no doubt about it. I do have an incredible decision to make. A decision that could affect me in so many ways going forward. That's what election day is about, right?
The decision I'm facing -- do I buy both 90210 and Melrose on DVD when they come out that day? Now that would make for an interesting debate.
What else? I got nothin'.
So, it's been a crazy week. I seem to be saying that a lot lately. Regardless, I owe you a few thoughts, so here they are -- in no particular order.
My birthday is coming. It's Wednesday. Forty is getting closer and closer. Ugh. Don't feel anywhere near it, though, so that's a good thing. Right?
The day before my birthday is Halloween. The boy wonder is 2 and a 1/2 this year. We are hoping this becomes his official trick-or-treating debut. He's even got the "trick or treat" part down for when people answer the door.
So what's the problem? Well, not sure if he'll be in a costume or not. We finally landed on Thomas the Tank Engine as the preferred costume. The problem is that once we actually got the costume, he's wanted nothing -- and I mean nothing -- to do with it. So, we'll see!
Chocolate chip pancakes for dinner tonight. Love breakfast for dinner. I'm just saying.
Why am I so excited that the Dancing with the Stars tour is coming nearby?
Are you watching Six Degrees? You should be.
Speaking of TV, I do love the Vegas. Well, Las Vegas. It's perfect mindless television. I also loved the old Vegas -- remember Dan Tanna? Yup, I do. I don't remember what I had for lunch yesterday, but I remember Dan Tanna.
November 7 is election day. And, no doubt about it. I do have an incredible decision to make. A decision that could affect me in so many ways going forward. That's what election day is about, right?
The decision I'm facing -- do I buy both 90210 and Melrose on DVD when they come out that day? Now that would make for an interesting debate.
What else? I got nothin'.
Saturday, October 21, 2006
Celebrity Sightings
Living near the world's two largest casinos always makes for some interesting people watching.
And, well, when one of them celebrates its 10th anniversary, the stars come out to play.
Among those scheduled to be at Mohegan Sun this weekend were Jerry Seinfeld, Kevin Costner, the entire original crew of Laugh-In, Neil Patrick Harris, Carmen Electra, Matthew Broderick and some others.
There was also a basketball game at the casino -- the Boston Celtics vs. New York Knicks. I worked at the game, sitting courtside, so figured if celebs were going to attend, I'd get the scoop.
And, for you, loyal readers, it is scoop that I have.
Joan Allen was there. Who is Joan Allen? Well, most notably, she played John Travolta's wife in Face/Off. She sat courtside. She's 50, or will be this year. And, I gotta tell you, she looked great. I wouldn't have said over 40. She was with someone younger -- not sure if it was her son or her man. She basically watched the entire game.
Matthew Lillard was there. Yeah, I didn't know his name either. Someone told me. But, i did recognize him. Most recently, he was Shaggy in the Scooby movies. But, you'd recognize him from the original Scream. He arrived late and left at halftime.
Sitting between Lillard and Allen was none other than Doogie -- Neil Patrick Harris. You all remember him as the genius young doctor. But, you should know him now for his role of Barney on How I Met Your Mother. He's brilliant. He had a few friends with him. Looked just like he does on TV. Seemed to enjoy the game -- as well as talking with Allen and Lillard. And, you know what, he eats a hot dog just like the rest of us.
Also sitting courtside was none other than Kevin Costner. He had a few people with him as well. Taller than you'd think. Getting grayer, that's for sure. He's apparently a basketball fan -- or camera happy -- or both. He got there earlier to meet the Celtics during their shootaround. Then he left for a bit and came back. He only stayed for the first half. Didn't seem thrilled with people asking for autographs.
So, as I'm walking out after the game, I figure, why not check out the high roller area and see if I recognize anyone.
It didn't take long to recognize the man himself -- Big Papi aka David Ortiz of the Boston Red Sox. He was dressed very casually. However, he had to have $50,000 on each wrist between his diamond Rolex and then some other bracelet like thing on his right hand. It was bling city. And, I guess the contract is OK for him, as well as endorsements. He was playing at a table with a minimum bet of $500 per hand. I watched him for probably 10 minutes and he seemed to be about even during that time period. It was cool to see him.
So, no Seinfeld sighting for me. He was there, though. I did see the copter he came in on. Same with Broderick. Didn't hear about my girl Carmen, so not sure if she made it or not.
What else?
I got nothin'.
And, well, when one of them celebrates its 10th anniversary, the stars come out to play.
Among those scheduled to be at Mohegan Sun this weekend were Jerry Seinfeld, Kevin Costner, the entire original crew of Laugh-In, Neil Patrick Harris, Carmen Electra, Matthew Broderick and some others.
There was also a basketball game at the casino -- the Boston Celtics vs. New York Knicks. I worked at the game, sitting courtside, so figured if celebs were going to attend, I'd get the scoop.
And, for you, loyal readers, it is scoop that I have.
Joan Allen was there. Who is Joan Allen? Well, most notably, she played John Travolta's wife in Face/Off. She sat courtside. She's 50, or will be this year. And, I gotta tell you, she looked great. I wouldn't have said over 40. She was with someone younger -- not sure if it was her son or her man. She basically watched the entire game.
Matthew Lillard was there. Yeah, I didn't know his name either. Someone told me. But, i did recognize him. Most recently, he was Shaggy in the Scooby movies. But, you'd recognize him from the original Scream. He arrived late and left at halftime.
Sitting between Lillard and Allen was none other than Doogie -- Neil Patrick Harris. You all remember him as the genius young doctor. But, you should know him now for his role of Barney on How I Met Your Mother. He's brilliant. He had a few friends with him. Looked just like he does on TV. Seemed to enjoy the game -- as well as talking with Allen and Lillard. And, you know what, he eats a hot dog just like the rest of us.
Also sitting courtside was none other than Kevin Costner. He had a few people with him as well. Taller than you'd think. Getting grayer, that's for sure. He's apparently a basketball fan -- or camera happy -- or both. He got there earlier to meet the Celtics during their shootaround. Then he left for a bit and came back. He only stayed for the first half. Didn't seem thrilled with people asking for autographs.
So, as I'm walking out after the game, I figure, why not check out the high roller area and see if I recognize anyone.
It didn't take long to recognize the man himself -- Big Papi aka David Ortiz of the Boston Red Sox. He was dressed very casually. However, he had to have $50,000 on each wrist between his diamond Rolex and then some other bracelet like thing on his right hand. It was bling city. And, I guess the contract is OK for him, as well as endorsements. He was playing at a table with a minimum bet of $500 per hand. I watched him for probably 10 minutes and he seemed to be about even during that time period. It was cool to see him.
So, no Seinfeld sighting for me. He was there, though. I did see the copter he came in on. Same with Broderick. Didn't hear about my girl Carmen, so not sure if she made it or not.
What else?
I got nothin'.
Thursday, October 19, 2006
The Domino's Dilemma
Ok, first of all, let me say this.
Yes, we eat Domino's pizza. First of all, it is good. But, more importantly, it's pretty convenient. Heck, they even have online ordering. Haven't done that yet, but I'll be checking it out.
Now, to the issue at hand -- the tip.
A few months ago, Domino's started adding a $1.50 delivery charge on all orders.
(Now, OK, I can forgive them for dropping the 30 minutes or less or your pizza is free promotion, but this little move has only caused confusion.)
You can see the dilemma, right? What do you tip the driver? Do you tip the driver? I mean, who is getting the $1.50? Is the driver getting it or is the store getting it?
Being creatures of habit, we always order the same thing (medium sausage, medium mushroom and breadsticks with parmesan peppercorn sauce). The bill is $17.41.
What would you give the guy when he shows up?
You just can't give him $17.41...and assume he's getting the $1.50. Or can you?
You can't give him $18 and tell him thanks, because then if he's not getting the $1.50, you just tipped $.59. And that's not good.
You can't really give him a $20 bill and ask for a $1 back. That's just cheap. Isn't it?
So, you see my point, the only option is to give him the $20 bill. Now, the "tip" comes to $4.09.
Isn't that a little much for a pizza guy?
I mean, I'm all about the tip. I really am. I do what's right. And if I get better service, the tip goes up. But that's an entirely other blog.
Right now, I'm still trying to solve the Domino's dilemma.
What would you do?
What else? I got nothin'.
Yes, we eat Domino's pizza. First of all, it is good. But, more importantly, it's pretty convenient. Heck, they even have online ordering. Haven't done that yet, but I'll be checking it out.
Now, to the issue at hand -- the tip.
A few months ago, Domino's started adding a $1.50 delivery charge on all orders.
(Now, OK, I can forgive them for dropping the 30 minutes or less or your pizza is free promotion, but this little move has only caused confusion.)
You can see the dilemma, right? What do you tip the driver? Do you tip the driver? I mean, who is getting the $1.50? Is the driver getting it or is the store getting it?
Being creatures of habit, we always order the same thing (medium sausage, medium mushroom and breadsticks with parmesan peppercorn sauce). The bill is $17.41.
What would you give the guy when he shows up?
You just can't give him $17.41...and assume he's getting the $1.50. Or can you?
You can't give him $18 and tell him thanks, because then if he's not getting the $1.50, you just tipped $.59. And that's not good.
You can't really give him a $20 bill and ask for a $1 back. That's just cheap. Isn't it?
So, you see my point, the only option is to give him the $20 bill. Now, the "tip" comes to $4.09.
Isn't that a little much for a pizza guy?
I mean, I'm all about the tip. I really am. I do what's right. And if I get better service, the tip goes up. But that's an entirely other blog.
Right now, I'm still trying to solve the Domino's dilemma.
What would you do?
What else? I got nothin'.
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Walk, Don't Run
Why do we do it? And, admit it, you do do it. We all do.
Recap with me. You need to cross the street. If you don't have the chance to jay-walk, you make your way to the cross walk. Stay within the lines. The lines are your friend.
Not too mention it's the law. We're supposed to walk there. And, more importantly, the cars are supposed to stop and let us.
So, why do we run.
You know you do it. I've seen you.
The cars eventually stop and you start across the street, often picking up into an outright jog. Why? Those white lines are our haven. Our safe zone. Yet, it's almost as if we feel like we're holding up the drivers so we decide to quicken our pace.
I've done it. You've done it. We've all done it.
The question is....why?
What else?
I got nothin'.
Recap with me. You need to cross the street. If you don't have the chance to jay-walk, you make your way to the cross walk. Stay within the lines. The lines are your friend.
Not too mention it's the law. We're supposed to walk there. And, more importantly, the cars are supposed to stop and let us.
So, why do we run.
You know you do it. I've seen you.
The cars eventually stop and you start across the street, often picking up into an outright jog. Why? Those white lines are our haven. Our safe zone. Yet, it's almost as if we feel like we're holding up the drivers so we decide to quicken our pace.
I've done it. You've done it. We've all done it.
The question is....why?
What else?
I got nothin'.
Monday, October 16, 2006
Monday's Random Thoughts
Welcome to the big show. It's Monday. Not sure what that means for me.
But, what it means for you is a few random thoughts. I guess what it means for me, then, is that I can't put a few hundred words together about one topic. So, here we go:
Venison anyone? Yup, we could be serving that this week at the homestead. Nope, didn't hit a deer (have already done that). But, someone else might have. Otherwise, how could I explain the dead deer in the side of my yard. Discovered it Saturday morning while taking a break from gutter cleaning (ah, the joys). Could have been there a week for all we know. And hopefully it won't be there much longer. Public Works is supposed to take it away.
Happy Birthday, Gramma. My Gramma turned 100 this weekend. That's right. One hundred. Wow. There was a party for her yesterday. Among the cards and assorted well wishes she got was one from Pennsylvania Avenue. Yes, faithful readers, your tax dollars at work. Let the White House know you've got a special event coming and George W will take the time out of his hectic schedule to send your gramma a card.
I love to chew gum. But, here's the thing. I can't chew one piece. Has to be two. Every time. And, right now, it has to be Orbit Citrusmint. Or Bubblemint.
The weekend is also used to catch up on TiVo shows. Here's a brief synopsis. LOST is fantastic this year. Of the new stuff, totally digging Brothers and Sisters. And I thought my family put the fun in dysfunctional. Wow.
Oh, speaking of TV. Since it's Monday, that means tonight is The Class and How I Met Your Mother. It also means I am completely unavailable between 8 and 9 p.m. Heck, it's like when 90210 used to be on. Wait, was that out loud? Hate it when that happens.
Here's a left over from Friday. I'm playing with my son and start to say the alphabet. I get to C and then ask, "What's next?" I'm sitting there thinking, ok, I'll get D, maybe an E, F, too. What does he do? Nothing except go through the rest of it. Talk about wow moments. That was pretty cool.
Saw a girl I went to high school with Friday night. We started talking about the usual stuff. Who is where and married to who and how many kids. Then we started talking about our next reunion. Yup, 20th. Gulp. Where does it go? Or, where did it go?
What else?
I got nothin'.
But, what it means for you is a few random thoughts. I guess what it means for me, then, is that I can't put a few hundred words together about one topic. So, here we go:
Venison anyone? Yup, we could be serving that this week at the homestead. Nope, didn't hit a deer (have already done that). But, someone else might have. Otherwise, how could I explain the dead deer in the side of my yard. Discovered it Saturday morning while taking a break from gutter cleaning (ah, the joys). Could have been there a week for all we know. And hopefully it won't be there much longer. Public Works is supposed to take it away.
Happy Birthday, Gramma. My Gramma turned 100 this weekend. That's right. One hundred. Wow. There was a party for her yesterday. Among the cards and assorted well wishes she got was one from Pennsylvania Avenue. Yes, faithful readers, your tax dollars at work. Let the White House know you've got a special event coming and George W will take the time out of his hectic schedule to send your gramma a card.
I love to chew gum. But, here's the thing. I can't chew one piece. Has to be two. Every time. And, right now, it has to be Orbit Citrusmint. Or Bubblemint.
The weekend is also used to catch up on TiVo shows. Here's a brief synopsis. LOST is fantastic this year. Of the new stuff, totally digging Brothers and Sisters. And I thought my family put the fun in dysfunctional. Wow.
Oh, speaking of TV. Since it's Monday, that means tonight is The Class and How I Met Your Mother. It also means I am completely unavailable between 8 and 9 p.m. Heck, it's like when 90210 used to be on. Wait, was that out loud? Hate it when that happens.
Here's a left over from Friday. I'm playing with my son and start to say the alphabet. I get to C and then ask, "What's next?" I'm sitting there thinking, ok, I'll get D, maybe an E, F, too. What does he do? Nothing except go through the rest of it. Talk about wow moments. That was pretty cool.
Saw a girl I went to high school with Friday night. We started talking about the usual stuff. Who is where and married to who and how many kids. Then we started talking about our next reunion. Yup, 20th. Gulp. Where does it go? Or, where did it go?
What else?
I got nothin'.
Friday, October 13, 2006
My Montel Moment
Yup, it's true. I'm going to be on the Montel Williams Show.
No, it's not true that I'm going to be on a show about paternity tests.
My appearance, believe it or not, is actually work related. Honest.
My show will air on Halloween. Set your TiVo now. I mean, come on, this is not to be missed.
They sent a car to get me. That was cool. They even offered me an overnight in the city, but I passed on it. I'm away at night enough, didn't want to do it if I didn't have to.
So the black Mercedes picked me up with a driver who didn't speak much English. So, we didn't talk. Which was fine. I wanted to do some work on the way down. I tried -- then started to get car sick. So, just put the iPod on and fell asleep until we arrived.
I didn't tip him. Not sure what the protocol is. But I didn't like him, so I didn't tip.
I get to the show and they put me in the green room -- which, by the way, isn't green. In my case, it was a very faint yellowish/creamish kind of a color. There are also a number of green rooms. Mine was number six. There were seven total.
Then the producer came in to go over things. Then the interns came in every 20 minutes to make sure I was ok. Did I need anything? Could they get me something? They were very pleasant and definitely made me feel like a guest.
Then it was time for lunch, which was not good, but I was starving, so that was fine.
Hair was next. I mean, come on, what could they possibly do with me? Not much, apparently. I was in there for 30 seconds. Some very feminine guy ran his fingers through my hair while spraying me with stuff and his co-worker (a female) kept saying, "Yes, that's it. Yes, that's perfect. Oh, this is good."
I could not make that up. But, I mean, have you seen my hair?
Back in the green room for 15 minutes before being called to make-up.
I sat in the chair while this woman took the shine off my forehead. The best way I could describe her? All I could think of was a rock groupie. No, not a modern day groupie. But someone from like the late 1970s, but still in her groupie clothes and still wearing her groupie hair.
At last, time to go down to the studio. There were seven or eight of us guests. We were behind the stage at first where microphones were put on us. Then we were on the side of the stage, waiting for our cue to go out to our seats. While standing there, we heard Montel interacting with the crowd, giving them instructions on how he'll call on them for questions during the show.
This was a big issue because psychic Sylvia Browne was the featured guest and everyone there wanted to ask her a question.
After 10 minutes, we were led out to our seats and mine was front row -- six feet from Montel and Sylvia. The set was decorated with mums, pumpkins and corn stalks -- all fake. Like most shows, the studio is very small -- actually cramped is a better word. It always looks bigger on TV.
We were the second of three shows taping that day.
Montel was going to introduce each segment by showing a videotaped piece -- then he comes out of that and talks to the guest in that piece. I didn't know when mine was going to come up, but it ended up being last. I was more nervous than I thought I would be. I was fine in the taped piece, but he then asked me something, I answered. Sylvia asked me something, I answered. Then, I asked her a question and then he was moving on to someone else.
It was very fast -- probably four minutes total. But, you'll see me a lot on the show because of my location.
I was happy with the result -- at least I think I am. The real test will be when it airs. I was surprised at the nerves I had. I've been on everything from Good Morning America to CNN to local TV, yet I had more butterflies here. Not sure why. Maybe the live audience had something to do with it.
After the show, I was ready for my car ride home. I got in the car they had for me and asked the guy how he drew the short straw to drive to Connecticut. He was like, I'm going to Penn Station. I said, well, I'm not.
They goofed on my travel plans. Had me going back on a train. A train that wasn't going to get in until almost 11. So that wasn't going to work. Twenty minutes later a new car was there to get me.
I liked this driver. I slept for about 45 minutes -- and then we chatted quite a bit. I tipped him whe we got back.
That's about it. Tune in on Halloween and let me know what you think.
No, it's not true that I'm going to be on a show about paternity tests.
My appearance, believe it or not, is actually work related. Honest.
My show will air on Halloween. Set your TiVo now. I mean, come on, this is not to be missed.
They sent a car to get me. That was cool. They even offered me an overnight in the city, but I passed on it. I'm away at night enough, didn't want to do it if I didn't have to.
So the black Mercedes picked me up with a driver who didn't speak much English. So, we didn't talk. Which was fine. I wanted to do some work on the way down. I tried -- then started to get car sick. So, just put the iPod on and fell asleep until we arrived.
I didn't tip him. Not sure what the protocol is. But I didn't like him, so I didn't tip.
I get to the show and they put me in the green room -- which, by the way, isn't green. In my case, it was a very faint yellowish/creamish kind of a color. There are also a number of green rooms. Mine was number six. There were seven total.
Then the producer came in to go over things. Then the interns came in every 20 minutes to make sure I was ok. Did I need anything? Could they get me something? They were very pleasant and definitely made me feel like a guest.
Then it was time for lunch, which was not good, but I was starving, so that was fine.
Hair was next. I mean, come on, what could they possibly do with me? Not much, apparently. I was in there for 30 seconds. Some very feminine guy ran his fingers through my hair while spraying me with stuff and his co-worker (a female) kept saying, "Yes, that's it. Yes, that's perfect. Oh, this is good."
I could not make that up. But, I mean, have you seen my hair?
Back in the green room for 15 minutes before being called to make-up.
I sat in the chair while this woman took the shine off my forehead. The best way I could describe her? All I could think of was a rock groupie. No, not a modern day groupie. But someone from like the late 1970s, but still in her groupie clothes and still wearing her groupie hair.
At last, time to go down to the studio. There were seven or eight of us guests. We were behind the stage at first where microphones were put on us. Then we were on the side of the stage, waiting for our cue to go out to our seats. While standing there, we heard Montel interacting with the crowd, giving them instructions on how he'll call on them for questions during the show.
This was a big issue because psychic Sylvia Browne was the featured guest and everyone there wanted to ask her a question.
After 10 minutes, we were led out to our seats and mine was front row -- six feet from Montel and Sylvia. The set was decorated with mums, pumpkins and corn stalks -- all fake. Like most shows, the studio is very small -- actually cramped is a better word. It always looks bigger on TV.
We were the second of three shows taping that day.
Montel was going to introduce each segment by showing a videotaped piece -- then he comes out of that and talks to the guest in that piece. I didn't know when mine was going to come up, but it ended up being last. I was more nervous than I thought I would be. I was fine in the taped piece, but he then asked me something, I answered. Sylvia asked me something, I answered. Then, I asked her a question and then he was moving on to someone else.
It was very fast -- probably four minutes total. But, you'll see me a lot on the show because of my location.
I was happy with the result -- at least I think I am. The real test will be when it airs. I was surprised at the nerves I had. I've been on everything from Good Morning America to CNN to local TV, yet I had more butterflies here. Not sure why. Maybe the live audience had something to do with it.
After the show, I was ready for my car ride home. I got in the car they had for me and asked the guy how he drew the short straw to drive to Connecticut. He was like, I'm going to Penn Station. I said, well, I'm not.
They goofed on my travel plans. Had me going back on a train. A train that wasn't going to get in until almost 11. So that wasn't going to work. Twenty minutes later a new car was there to get me.
I liked this driver. I slept for about 45 minutes -- and then we chatted quite a bit. I tipped him whe we got back.
That's about it. Tune in on Halloween and let me know what you think.
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
Emptying the Vault
Loyal and faithful readers, fear not. I am back. It's been one of those weeks. Have had too much stuff going on to come and give you the service you deserve.
And here I thought you didn't care -- or didn't notice. But, alas, you did. Two of you (my entire readership?) actually told me they checked in and were disappointed not to find any new thoughts.
Well, wait no longer.
Here are a few thoughts/comments of the random variety:
I failed parenthood again. My son's nursery school wants his name on everything. Fine, I can do that. I made a nifty little name tag for his backpack. But, when it came time to writing his name in his jacket, well, I guess I didn't think that the sharpie I was using would bleed through. Yeah, it did. He looked damn cute in that jacket, too. The bright spot? A hand-me-down, so we didn't pay for it.
My best friend just had his fourth girl last night (well, actually, his wife did, but you get the point). Four kids. All girls. God bless 'em. I told him not too worry, wedding receptions in American Legion halls can be lots of fun.
No, I haven't watched LOST yet. The beauty of TiVo. My top shows right now: Amazing Race, Dancing with the Stars, How I Met Your Mother, The Class, Brothers & Sisters (I know!) and Six Degrees.
OK, so how important is it that a 2-year-old be dressed up for Halloween? We're not making any progress at all on the costume front. Not good.
I'm going to be on the Montel Williams Show. Yup. It's true. Not for a paternity test or anything though. Something work related. Show tapes tomorrow. Probably airs 10/18 or 10/25.
My grandmother turns 100 this weekend. Wow. She got a letter from the President congratulating her. That might be the best thing Bush has done in eight years.
My birthday (hint, hint) is only a couple of weeks away. Hint, it's the day after Halloween. The numbers keep getting higher.
I think that's it for now. I'll be better about regular posts. Really, I will.
And here I thought you didn't care -- or didn't notice. But, alas, you did. Two of you (my entire readership?) actually told me they checked in and were disappointed not to find any new thoughts.
Well, wait no longer.
Here are a few thoughts/comments of the random variety:
I failed parenthood again. My son's nursery school wants his name on everything. Fine, I can do that. I made a nifty little name tag for his backpack. But, when it came time to writing his name in his jacket, well, I guess I didn't think that the sharpie I was using would bleed through. Yeah, it did. He looked damn cute in that jacket, too. The bright spot? A hand-me-down, so we didn't pay for it.
My best friend just had his fourth girl last night (well, actually, his wife did, but you get the point). Four kids. All girls. God bless 'em. I told him not too worry, wedding receptions in American Legion halls can be lots of fun.
No, I haven't watched LOST yet. The beauty of TiVo. My top shows right now: Amazing Race, Dancing with the Stars, How I Met Your Mother, The Class, Brothers & Sisters (I know!) and Six Degrees.
OK, so how important is it that a 2-year-old be dressed up for Halloween? We're not making any progress at all on the costume front. Not good.
I'm going to be on the Montel Williams Show. Yup. It's true. Not for a paternity test or anything though. Something work related. Show tapes tomorrow. Probably airs 10/18 or 10/25.
My grandmother turns 100 this weekend. Wow. She got a letter from the President congratulating her. That might be the best thing Bush has done in eight years.
My birthday (hint, hint) is only a couple of weeks away. Hint, it's the day after Halloween. The numbers keep getting higher.
I think that's it for now. I'll be better about regular posts. Really, I will.
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
The Barney Influence
OK, I have to give credit where credit is due.
Barney is a good thing.
Not the Barney on How I Met My Mother (although Neil Patrick Harris is brilliant). No, I'm talking about the big furry purple dinosaur (or whatever he is) Barney.
Barney gets props from me today because my two-year-old son had his first day at nursery school yesterday. And, when I got home, my wife told me that the teacher reported, "he did an excellent job during clean up."
Of course, one side of me is jumping for joy. He did great at clean up! Woo-hoo! My son did great at clean up. I actually shared the news with some co-workers today.
And, give props to Barney. When he first sang the "Clean Up Song," my son was hooked. We don't watch a lot of Barney now, but I've got to thank the big purple guy for his influence on my son's ability -- and willingness -- to help pick up his toys.
Of course, then there's the other side of me that looks at the glass half empty. Did he not do other things right? Is she just trying to come up with positive stuff so she says, "He did well at clean up."
Makes you wonder, eh? Well, OK, maybe not you, but it does me.
But, then 10 seconds later it's out of my head.
Afterall, my son is almost two-and-a-half. He is a good clean up guy. But, he's also a good mess-making guy.
He might suck at clean up tomorrow and be really good at something else.
But, that's tomorrow. We're not there yet. All I know at this moment is that my son is the best cleaner upper in his class. And I'm fine with that. Heck, I'm loving that.
Barney is a good thing.
Not the Barney on How I Met My Mother (although Neil Patrick Harris is brilliant). No, I'm talking about the big furry purple dinosaur (or whatever he is) Barney.
Barney gets props from me today because my two-year-old son had his first day at nursery school yesterday. And, when I got home, my wife told me that the teacher reported, "he did an excellent job during clean up."
Of course, one side of me is jumping for joy. He did great at clean up! Woo-hoo! My son did great at clean up. I actually shared the news with some co-workers today.
And, give props to Barney. When he first sang the "Clean Up Song," my son was hooked. We don't watch a lot of Barney now, but I've got to thank the big purple guy for his influence on my son's ability -- and willingness -- to help pick up his toys.
Of course, then there's the other side of me that looks at the glass half empty. Did he not do other things right? Is she just trying to come up with positive stuff so she says, "He did well at clean up."
Makes you wonder, eh? Well, OK, maybe not you, but it does me.
But, then 10 seconds later it's out of my head.
Afterall, my son is almost two-and-a-half. He is a good clean up guy. But, he's also a good mess-making guy.
He might suck at clean up tomorrow and be really good at something else.
But, that's tomorrow. We're not there yet. All I know at this moment is that my son is the best cleaner upper in his class. And I'm fine with that. Heck, I'm loving that.
Monday, October 02, 2006
Healthy Fries?
Ok, nutritional question for you.
I had a great lunch today. I ate at a local spa/resort type place. Really great chicken wrap. And, on the side -- 'herb crusted fries'.
My thought is this, if I'm at a spa, they've got to be healthy fries, right? I mean, isn't that why they were described as 'herb crusted'?
A spa wouldn't serve fries that are bad for you. Would they?
Wait. Maybe they would. Maybe it's a ploy by the spa spies to get me to go there and actually work off the herb-crusted fries.
Bottom line -- never trust the spa spies.
And, another thing. So, this lunch was a working lunch. It was a meeting of four people.
And, because of that, I was over-dressed. Significantly over dressed.
What was I wearing? Well, just my usual -- khakis and a plaid shirt.
But, here's the thing. Of the other 50 or so people in the restaurant, I'd say 45 of them were in spa clothes -- read, bathrobes.
Yup, eating in their bathrobes. Not for breakfast, mind you, when I think eating in your bathrobe (if you wear one) is completely acceptable.
This was at lunch.
And, OK, I can admit. While I was debating between the aforementioned herb-crusted fries and a side salad, I was also wondering if the people wearing the bathrobes were going commando.
Tell me you wouldn't do the same thing. I don't believe you.
I had a great lunch today. I ate at a local spa/resort type place. Really great chicken wrap. And, on the side -- 'herb crusted fries'.
My thought is this, if I'm at a spa, they've got to be healthy fries, right? I mean, isn't that why they were described as 'herb crusted'?
A spa wouldn't serve fries that are bad for you. Would they?
Wait. Maybe they would. Maybe it's a ploy by the spa spies to get me to go there and actually work off the herb-crusted fries.
Bottom line -- never trust the spa spies.
And, another thing. So, this lunch was a working lunch. It was a meeting of four people.
And, because of that, I was over-dressed. Significantly over dressed.
What was I wearing? Well, just my usual -- khakis and a plaid shirt.
But, here's the thing. Of the other 50 or so people in the restaurant, I'd say 45 of them were in spa clothes -- read, bathrobes.
Yup, eating in their bathrobes. Not for breakfast, mind you, when I think eating in your bathrobe (if you wear one) is completely acceptable.
This was at lunch.
And, OK, I can admit. While I was debating between the aforementioned herb-crusted fries and a side salad, I was also wondering if the people wearing the bathrobes were going commando.
Tell me you wouldn't do the same thing. I don't believe you.
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Do Guys Wear Hoodies?
So a buddy of mine is going to Fenway tonight to see the Sox. He'll be five rows behind homeplate, which means I could probably see him on TV (if I really wanted to). And that would be the only reason to watch since I stopped watching them regularly about a month ago.
Anyway, I asked my friend, "Will you have a hat on or will you be wearing anything that will help me find you?"
"I won't have a hat on, but I'll probably be wearing my Patriots hoodie."
I was speechless at first. Then I said, "Wait a minute" and my voice trailed off.
He was like, "Oh boy, something's coming."
Damn right something's coming, I said.
It's a hoodie thing. I have lots of things. Trust me. But the hoodie thing is one of my newest.
When did it stop being just a hooded sweatshirt?
And, more importantly, as I told my friend, it's just not right for guys (particularly those in their 40s like him) to be talking about their hoodie. College girls wear hoodies. High school girls wear hoodies. Guys -- we shouldn't be wearing hoodies.
I can't offer any concrete rationale for it being wrong. I just know it is.
Isn't it?
Anyway, I asked my friend, "Will you have a hat on or will you be wearing anything that will help me find you?"
"I won't have a hat on, but I'll probably be wearing my Patriots hoodie."
I was speechless at first. Then I said, "Wait a minute" and my voice trailed off.
He was like, "Oh boy, something's coming."
Damn right something's coming, I said.
It's a hoodie thing. I have lots of things. Trust me. But the hoodie thing is one of my newest.
When did it stop being just a hooded sweatshirt?
And, more importantly, as I told my friend, it's just not right for guys (particularly those in their 40s like him) to be talking about their hoodie. College girls wear hoodies. High school girls wear hoodies. Guys -- we shouldn't be wearing hoodies.
I can't offer any concrete rationale for it being wrong. I just know it is.
Isn't it?
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
The Ultimate Dinner Party
Not sure where I first heard this question, but it's probably my favorite conversation starter:
You're hosting a dinner party for four people -- you and three guests. The guests can be anyone. Alive. Dead. Real. Ficticious.
Who do yo invite?
I can never land on one group, so I have a few. Some logical. Some kind of cool. Some just plain odd.
For example, I never met either of my grandfathers, so I'd start with them. And, I don't remember a lot of one of my grandmothers, so she would round out the first table of four.
Next table is just a party of three. I'd invite my dad (who passed away six years ago) to have dinner with my two-year-old son and me. I'd love to see how they get along.
Then, I start having fun. Imagine the conversation (not too mention the looks) if JFK, Joe DiMaggio and Marilyn Monroe were my guests.
I'm a sports nut -- a Boston sports nut at that -- so I'd invite Ted Williams, Larry Bird and probably Red Aurebach.
Gotta have my music party, so I'd invite Jon Bon Jovi, Michael Stipe and probably Elton John.
My religious party would have me breaking bread with Jesus, Moses and Peter.
In my completely crazy party, I'd invite Ted Bundy, Charles Manson and Hitler.
You see that you can start to have fun with this. Think of the conversations that would be started. Think of the looks these parties would generate if you were in a restaurant. Think of the fun you would have to sit back and just enjoy.
So, enough about me, who would you invite to dinner?
You're hosting a dinner party for four people -- you and three guests. The guests can be anyone. Alive. Dead. Real. Ficticious.
Who do yo invite?
I can never land on one group, so I have a few. Some logical. Some kind of cool. Some just plain odd.
For example, I never met either of my grandfathers, so I'd start with them. And, I don't remember a lot of one of my grandmothers, so she would round out the first table of four.
Next table is just a party of three. I'd invite my dad (who passed away six years ago) to have dinner with my two-year-old son and me. I'd love to see how they get along.
Then, I start having fun. Imagine the conversation (not too mention the looks) if JFK, Joe DiMaggio and Marilyn Monroe were my guests.
I'm a sports nut -- a Boston sports nut at that -- so I'd invite Ted Williams, Larry Bird and probably Red Aurebach.
Gotta have my music party, so I'd invite Jon Bon Jovi, Michael Stipe and probably Elton John.
My religious party would have me breaking bread with Jesus, Moses and Peter.
In my completely crazy party, I'd invite Ted Bundy, Charles Manson and Hitler.
You see that you can start to have fun with this. Think of the conversations that would be started. Think of the looks these parties would generate if you were in a restaurant. Think of the fun you would have to sit back and just enjoy.
So, enough about me, who would you invite to dinner?
Monday, September 25, 2006
The Most Ignored Road Sign
Perhaps you've seen it. Or, most likely, you haven't.
Because, it seems, many of you don't know what it means.
I'm talking about the Yield sign. You know, the one that means, you can keep going, as long as nobody else is coming, at which point you need to slow down and get out of their way.
Not the sign that means you can just keep going no matter what and you never have to look behind you to see who might be starting a 10-car pile up because of your ineptness.
Perhaps there's just a big mystery....and that's that not everyone knows that Yield actually means "Yes, I'm an Educated and Licensed Driver."
Do they just not teach the Yield thing anymore? Have we simply forgotten about it? Why doesn't anyone Yield anymore?
How about you...do you Yield?
Because, it seems, many of you don't know what it means.
I'm talking about the Yield sign. You know, the one that means, you can keep going, as long as nobody else is coming, at which point you need to slow down and get out of their way.
Not the sign that means you can just keep going no matter what and you never have to look behind you to see who might be starting a 10-car pile up because of your ineptness.
Perhaps there's just a big mystery....and that's that not everyone knows that Yield actually means "Yes, I'm an Educated and Licensed Driver."
Do they just not teach the Yield thing anymore? Have we simply forgotten about it? Why doesn't anyone Yield anymore?
How about you...do you Yield?
Thursday, September 21, 2006
What's On the Tube?
Loyal readers (both of you), I'm sure you've been wondering, "Where's Mike?"
If you must know, I've been in front of the TV. It's that time of year -- new shows aplenty, so with the help of TiVo (the greatest invention ever), I've been checking out what the networks are bringing to the table.
Some shows are still rolling out this week, so I'll reserve total judgment, but, so far, I gotta tell you, I love what I see.
Let's go category by category:
Reality
The best reality show on TV is The Amazing Race -- now in it's 10th season. They are promising some twists and turns, but it sure looks like they nailed the teams on this one.
Dancing with the Stars. Yup, I watch it. In fact, I love it. The only necessary change -- rid poor Tom Bergeron of Samantha Harris. She's awful. This year? Go Emmitt!
Survivor. The king of them all is playing the race card -- separating tribes at first by race. So far, so good. It's working for me.
The Biggest Loser. Didn't plan to watch this last night, but I got sucked in (no pun intended) for a bit. It wasn't bad. Won't go on TiVo as a season pass, but it was still pretty good.
Comedy
I'm not a big comedy guy. It's hard to impress me. I was a huge Friends fan, however, which is probably why I LOVED the first episode of The Class. Hilarious. I also watch How I Met Your Mother. No, I don't watch Earl or the Office. I guess I'll put The OC in the comedy category. Not really sure what else to call it!
Drama
This is my realm. So many shows. So many good shows. I'll probably forget some, too. Returning shows first.
It's new to me, but I've started watching Nip/Tuck. Pretty dark, but very entertaining. I'll also start watching Las Vegas and Crossing Jordan. Just good entertainment. Don't have to think very much watching those.
Desperate Housewives is back. I'm feeling it. And you know LOST is going to be fabulous.
New shows: Justice is getting a little better on FOX. Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip had an OK first episode, but you know it'll be good. I'm looking forward to giving Six Degrees and Brothers and Sisters a try, too.
So...yeah, it's a busy TV season. Thank goodness for TiVo. But, if I'm not here, now you know where to find me!
If you must know, I've been in front of the TV. It's that time of year -- new shows aplenty, so with the help of TiVo (the greatest invention ever), I've been checking out what the networks are bringing to the table.
Some shows are still rolling out this week, so I'll reserve total judgment, but, so far, I gotta tell you, I love what I see.
Let's go category by category:
Reality
The best reality show on TV is The Amazing Race -- now in it's 10th season. They are promising some twists and turns, but it sure looks like they nailed the teams on this one.
Dancing with the Stars. Yup, I watch it. In fact, I love it. The only necessary change -- rid poor Tom Bergeron of Samantha Harris. She's awful. This year? Go Emmitt!
Survivor. The king of them all is playing the race card -- separating tribes at first by race. So far, so good. It's working for me.
The Biggest Loser. Didn't plan to watch this last night, but I got sucked in (no pun intended) for a bit. It wasn't bad. Won't go on TiVo as a season pass, but it was still pretty good.
Comedy
I'm not a big comedy guy. It's hard to impress me. I was a huge Friends fan, however, which is probably why I LOVED the first episode of The Class. Hilarious. I also watch How I Met Your Mother. No, I don't watch Earl or the Office. I guess I'll put The OC in the comedy category. Not really sure what else to call it!
Drama
This is my realm. So many shows. So many good shows. I'll probably forget some, too. Returning shows first.
It's new to me, but I've started watching Nip/Tuck. Pretty dark, but very entertaining. I'll also start watching Las Vegas and Crossing Jordan. Just good entertainment. Don't have to think very much watching those.
Desperate Housewives is back. I'm feeling it. And you know LOST is going to be fabulous.
New shows: Justice is getting a little better on FOX. Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip had an OK first episode, but you know it'll be good. I'm looking forward to giving Six Degrees and Brothers and Sisters a try, too.
So...yeah, it's a busy TV season. Thank goodness for TiVo. But, if I'm not here, now you know where to find me!
Friday, September 15, 2006
Two Big Boys
The two men of the house are on their own this weekend. That's me and my two-year-old son.
His Mom is visiting her sister in Florida -- marking the first time in more than two years she's been away from our son for an overnight. Therefore, it's also the first time he and I have been alone together overnight. It'll actually be two overnights. She comes back Sunday.
So, with the woman of the house away, the men of the house are ready to have a boys' weekend.
Tonight, we went to McDonald's for dinner. That was a great way to start. We were going to go to a football game, but the rain put a damper on that.
My wife is getting a much-deserved vacation -- even for two nights. She's nervous about being away from him for the first time. But, it's gotta happen at some point. I'm getting some much-appreciated one-on-one time with my son, too.
Mom is the one who spends the most time with him, so this will be a good weekend for us. And, the first phase accomplished with no trouble. We got dinner, a bath and down to bed without incident. And I've even already cleaned up toys that were lying around and did some dishes.
Not sure what the rest of the weekend is going to bring. Like real men, we're going to wing it. No plans in this house! Just men -- or as my son says, 'two big boys.'
His Mom is visiting her sister in Florida -- marking the first time in more than two years she's been away from our son for an overnight. Therefore, it's also the first time he and I have been alone together overnight. It'll actually be two overnights. She comes back Sunday.
So, with the woman of the house away, the men of the house are ready to have a boys' weekend.
Tonight, we went to McDonald's for dinner. That was a great way to start. We were going to go to a football game, but the rain put a damper on that.
My wife is getting a much-deserved vacation -- even for two nights. She's nervous about being away from him for the first time. But, it's gotta happen at some point. I'm getting some much-appreciated one-on-one time with my son, too.
Mom is the one who spends the most time with him, so this will be a good weekend for us. And, the first phase accomplished with no trouble. We got dinner, a bath and down to bed without incident. And I've even already cleaned up toys that were lying around and did some dishes.
Not sure what the rest of the weekend is going to bring. Like real men, we're going to wing it. No plans in this house! Just men -- or as my son says, 'two big boys.'
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Mustard on Meatloaf?
Ok, so here's the thing.
It's hard to find something that tastes better than a hamburger right off the grill. Add some perfectly melted cheese and the only thing that makes that burger taste better (besides a cold beer) is the perfect amount of mustard.
That's right. I put mustard on my cheeseburgers. No ketchup. Just mustard. And, you know what? I love it. Nothing tastes better to me.
But, here's the thing....when I have meatloaf, which is one of my all-time favorite dinners, what do you think I put on it? Mustard?
Nope. Guess again.
Yup, I put ketchup on meatloaf. Can't really tell you why. I just do. I know, meatloaf is just a hamburger in a different shape. But, there is something that just won't let me do it. Ketchup doesn't go on cheeseburgers, but it goes on meatloaf with melted cheese.
No idea why I do this or why I can't change. I just know that's what I do. The only time ketchup will make it on my burger is if I'm mixing it with mayo to make secret sauce.
So, yeah, that's me. Weird, eh?
It's hard to find something that tastes better than a hamburger right off the grill. Add some perfectly melted cheese and the only thing that makes that burger taste better (besides a cold beer) is the perfect amount of mustard.
That's right. I put mustard on my cheeseburgers. No ketchup. Just mustard. And, you know what? I love it. Nothing tastes better to me.
But, here's the thing....when I have meatloaf, which is one of my all-time favorite dinners, what do you think I put on it? Mustard?
Nope. Guess again.
Yup, I put ketchup on meatloaf. Can't really tell you why. I just do. I know, meatloaf is just a hamburger in a different shape. But, there is something that just won't let me do it. Ketchup doesn't go on cheeseburgers, but it goes on meatloaf with melted cheese.
No idea why I do this or why I can't change. I just know that's what I do. The only time ketchup will make it on my burger is if I'm mixing it with mayo to make secret sauce.
So, yeah, that's me. Weird, eh?
Sunday, September 10, 2006
My Generation's Kennedy Moment
My Mom can tell you where she was when President Kennedy was killed. That was always hard for me to fathom. How a complete generation of people had one moment in history that would always link them together.
I never really understood that.
Until 9/11.
I was at work in East Hartford (at a job I no longer have). We were in an all-staff meeting. It was a short meeting -- I think we started at 8:30. When we came out at 9, someone mentioned something about a plane and a building in New York.
I quickly got online -- or tried to anyway. The internet was crawling as millions of people were trying to find out what had happened. And then when CNN's web page came up, we knew. We hooked up the only TV we had in the office in the conference room, and about 20 of us stood around and watched silently as the towers fell. It was surreal.
Just unimagineable. I thought back to a trip to New York when I went to the observation deck of one of the towers. I thought about how the 19 story building I was in at the time absolutely paled in comparison. I thought about my friend Nancy who I knew worked for Morgan Stanley -- but was fortunately more mid-town. I found out that my friend Liz's husband Tim who worked in one of the adjoining buildings didn't go to work that day.
And then I thought about my trip.
On September 12, my college roommate and I were due to fly to Kansas City and then on to St. Louis in our ongoing quest to see a baseball game in every major league park.
Our flight wasn't until later in the day on the 12th, so I was sure we'd be in the air and on our way. A couple hours later, I was thinking, well, it's ok if they delay us one day. We'll still get out there.
Flights would be grounded for days. What we were watching would change the course of the world.
It has since been documented in television specials, coffee table books and government commission reports.
And all I was concerned about at the time was baseball -- America's pasttime.
I was so naive.
I never really understood that.
Until 9/11.
I was at work in East Hartford (at a job I no longer have). We were in an all-staff meeting. It was a short meeting -- I think we started at 8:30. When we came out at 9, someone mentioned something about a plane and a building in New York.
I quickly got online -- or tried to anyway. The internet was crawling as millions of people were trying to find out what had happened. And then when CNN's web page came up, we knew. We hooked up the only TV we had in the office in the conference room, and about 20 of us stood around and watched silently as the towers fell. It was surreal.
Just unimagineable. I thought back to a trip to New York when I went to the observation deck of one of the towers. I thought about how the 19 story building I was in at the time absolutely paled in comparison. I thought about my friend Nancy who I knew worked for Morgan Stanley -- but was fortunately more mid-town. I found out that my friend Liz's husband Tim who worked in one of the adjoining buildings didn't go to work that day.
And then I thought about my trip.
On September 12, my college roommate and I were due to fly to Kansas City and then on to St. Louis in our ongoing quest to see a baseball game in every major league park.
Our flight wasn't until later in the day on the 12th, so I was sure we'd be in the air and on our way. A couple hours later, I was thinking, well, it's ok if they delay us one day. We'll still get out there.
Flights would be grounded for days. What we were watching would change the course of the world.
It has since been documented in television specials, coffee table books and government commission reports.
And all I was concerned about at the time was baseball -- America's pasttime.
I was so naive.
My Son's First 'Concert'
Saturday morning, my wife and I got everything ready, put our son in the car and off we went. He only knew we were going on a "special special" which is what we call a, well, special trip.
If you've watched your share of Thomas the Tank Engine episodes, you know it comes from there. But, it works, so we go with it.
It wasn't Thomas that morning, however. Rather, it was Elmo and Sesame Street Live. So, needless to say, he was wearing his Elmo shirt and his Elmo shorts.
We got to the arena and as soon as he saw the stage, he knew he was somewhere special. We told him he would soon be seeing all of his friends -- Elmo, Big Bird, Count, Cookie Monster, Bert and Ernie and Oscar -- up close. He wasn't quite sure what to make of the explanation, but as soon as the lights went down and the characters came out, his curiosity took over and his eyes were fixed on the stage.
The show was longer than expected -- an hour and a half, not counting a 15-minute intermission (more on that in a minute).
For the most part, he did great. Got a little antsy toward the end, but can't blame him for that. We were getting that way, too. All in all, though, I think he enjoyed his first concert.
So the announcement of an intermission wasn't 30 seconds old when a vendor carrying a bundle of what had to to be 100 Elmo balloons hit the main floor. Yeah, I'd say people flocked to him dropping probably $5 or $10 on one of these souveniers.
We did not go home with one, I'm proud to say.
Sesame Street does it right, though. Good show. Characters all looked great. It was a good day. And his first 'concert' was much different than mine -- which was KISS. Oh well, there will be time for that as he gets older! And no doubt I'll take him to his first rock show, too.
If you've watched your share of Thomas the Tank Engine episodes, you know it comes from there. But, it works, so we go with it.
It wasn't Thomas that morning, however. Rather, it was Elmo and Sesame Street Live. So, needless to say, he was wearing his Elmo shirt and his Elmo shorts.
We got to the arena and as soon as he saw the stage, he knew he was somewhere special. We told him he would soon be seeing all of his friends -- Elmo, Big Bird, Count, Cookie Monster, Bert and Ernie and Oscar -- up close. He wasn't quite sure what to make of the explanation, but as soon as the lights went down and the characters came out, his curiosity took over and his eyes were fixed on the stage.
The show was longer than expected -- an hour and a half, not counting a 15-minute intermission (more on that in a minute).
For the most part, he did great. Got a little antsy toward the end, but can't blame him for that. We were getting that way, too. All in all, though, I think he enjoyed his first concert.
So the announcement of an intermission wasn't 30 seconds old when a vendor carrying a bundle of what had to to be 100 Elmo balloons hit the main floor. Yeah, I'd say people flocked to him dropping probably $5 or $10 on one of these souveniers.
We did not go home with one, I'm proud to say.
Sesame Street does it right, though. Good show. Characters all looked great. It was a good day. And his first 'concert' was much different than mine -- which was KISS. Oh well, there will be time for that as he gets older! And no doubt I'll take him to his first rock show, too.
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
Call Me Cynical, but....
Ok, let's call this one a rambling rant. I'm half ranting and mostly rambling, so that's what you get.
I'm sorry, but I don't get this big news story about Steve Irwin. He's dead. I'm sorry for that. (Honest.) Nobody deserves to go the way he did. But, a couple of things. He's a croc hunter -- his time was coming eventually, no?
But, more importantly, is it really this big of a deal? "Breaking News" all over the place that Steve Irwin is dead? The local paper here has a spot on its website for people to post messages of condolences. Honestly? Who reads that stuff (Ok, I do...some of it is just so funny)? Who writes that stuff (I don't do that!)? Do the people that write it honestly believe that Steve's family will read this stuff? Are people so hurt by his loss that they need to publicly express their grief?
I don't get it. Help me understand this.
I'm sorry, but I don't get this big news story about Steve Irwin. He's dead. I'm sorry for that. (Honest.) Nobody deserves to go the way he did. But, a couple of things. He's a croc hunter -- his time was coming eventually, no?
But, more importantly, is it really this big of a deal? "Breaking News" all over the place that Steve Irwin is dead? The local paper here has a spot on its website for people to post messages of condolences. Honestly? Who reads that stuff (Ok, I do...some of it is just so funny)? Who writes that stuff (I don't do that!)? Do the people that write it honestly believe that Steve's family will read this stuff? Are people so hurt by his loss that they need to publicly express their grief?
I don't get it. Help me understand this.
Monday, September 04, 2006
What It Means to Be Two
My son is two -- which means he's very good at trying my patience (as well as his mom's).
My son is two -- which means he gives the best hugs in the world.
My son is two -- which means he sometimes will put his feet on the dinner table (even when he knows he shouldn't).
My son is two -- which means if watching him eat an ear of corn won't make your day, I'm not sure what will.
My son is two -- which means bath time isn't always the easiest time of day.
My son is two -- which means there is no better smile when he comes out of the tub and is bundled in a towel in his mom's lap.
My son is two -- which means he rarely uses his 'quiet' voice in quiet places.
My son is two -- which means hearing him say "choo choo train" will melt you.
My son is two -- which means he doesn't always understand that you can throw balls outside, but you can't throw them inside.
My son is two -- which means I love him more than I ever thought possible.
My son is two -- which means he gives the best hugs in the world.
My son is two -- which means he sometimes will put his feet on the dinner table (even when he knows he shouldn't).
My son is two -- which means if watching him eat an ear of corn won't make your day, I'm not sure what will.
My son is two -- which means bath time isn't always the easiest time of day.
My son is two -- which means there is no better smile when he comes out of the tub and is bundled in a towel in his mom's lap.
My son is two -- which means he rarely uses his 'quiet' voice in quiet places.
My son is two -- which means hearing him say "choo choo train" will melt you.
My son is two -- which means he doesn't always understand that you can throw balls outside, but you can't throw them inside.
My son is two -- which means I love him more than I ever thought possible.
Sunday, September 03, 2006
My First Official Rant
It's happened to me. I'm sure it's happened to you.
You're on the highway, cruising the left lane, minding your own business. Maybe you're going 70. Perhaps a little more. Whatever it is, it's not enough to get pulled over.
Then you spot him, out of nowhere, in your rear-view mirror.
The cop, almost always in an unmarked car. He comes right up on your tail, virtually forcing you into the right lane, only to cruise by you and then everyone else in the left lane.
If you're doing 70ish, you figure he's pushing 80. And, of course, no light. No siren. No nothing. Just a cop car.
I can't be the only one who can't stand this. I can't be the only one who has said to anyone listening in the car (or to just myself), "Why can he do that?"
Is there a cop code we don't know about? A code that says they can break the speed limit as much as they want and not worry about it?
Apparently there is.
There's also another thing they can do -- at least here in Connecticut. Cops can talk on their cellphones without a headset without a worry in the world. Who's gonna stop them? You've seen it, too. I'm sure you have.
I don't know why this stuff bugs me, but it does. A lot.
Am I alone?
You're on the highway, cruising the left lane, minding your own business. Maybe you're going 70. Perhaps a little more. Whatever it is, it's not enough to get pulled over.
Then you spot him, out of nowhere, in your rear-view mirror.
The cop, almost always in an unmarked car. He comes right up on your tail, virtually forcing you into the right lane, only to cruise by you and then everyone else in the left lane.
If you're doing 70ish, you figure he's pushing 80. And, of course, no light. No siren. No nothing. Just a cop car.
I can't be the only one who can't stand this. I can't be the only one who has said to anyone listening in the car (or to just myself), "Why can he do that?"
Is there a cop code we don't know about? A code that says they can break the speed limit as much as they want and not worry about it?
Apparently there is.
There's also another thing they can do -- at least here in Connecticut. Cops can talk on their cellphones without a headset without a worry in the world. Who's gonna stop them? You've seen it, too. I'm sure you have.
I don't know why this stuff bugs me, but it does. A lot.
Am I alone?
Friday, September 01, 2006
If I Write It...
...will you read it?
When I started this blog, that was my big question. Will people read it?
Well, the answer, apparently, is YES!
I have two comments so far. That's not a lot. But, hey, gotta start somewhere. And I don't even care that one of them is pointing out a mistake. I did My Eager Mother....instead of My Very Eager Mother....when talking about planets.
Thanks to a loyal reader (or someone who landed here by mistake), I was able to fix it.
And to the other anonymous commenter, thanks for your words. The rock climbing thing was in Hartford, CT, at a new challenge course along the Connecticut River.
That's all for now.
Mike
When I started this blog, that was my big question. Will people read it?
Well, the answer, apparently, is YES!
I have two comments so far. That's not a lot. But, hey, gotta start somewhere. And I don't even care that one of them is pointing out a mistake. I did My Eager Mother....instead of My Very Eager Mother....when talking about planets.
Thanks to a loyal reader (or someone who landed here by mistake), I was able to fix it.
And to the other anonymous commenter, thanks for your words. The rock climbing thing was in Hartford, CT, at a new challenge course along the Connecticut River.
That's all for now.
Mike
Thursday, August 31, 2006
Dad or Parent?
This morning, while playing trains with my son, I felt like a dad. Since he was born a little more than two years ago, I guess I've always just felt like a dad.
An hour after dropping him off at my mother-in-law's, where he spends his day while mom and dad work, I felt, for the first time, like a parent.
Why the change?
Today was the "Parents Coffee" at what will be his preschool starting in October. My wife and I were sitting among a group of probably 50 other parents listening to the director of the school go over all the details and what not of how they operate.
A couple of thoughts going through my head during all of this:
An hour after dropping him off at my mother-in-law's, where he spends his day while mom and dad work, I felt, for the first time, like a parent.
Why the change?
Today was the "Parents Coffee" at what will be his preschool starting in October. My wife and I were sitting among a group of probably 50 other parents listening to the director of the school go over all the details and what not of how they operate.
A couple of thoughts going through my head during all of this:
- Damn, this preschool situation is a whole thing. He'll be going twice a week from October through mid-May. I knew this all along, but it hit me today. He's going to school. We signed permission slip after permission slip and medical forms and library card applications. This is real. Very real. Isn't he just two? Isn't all this stuff for older kids? I should enjoy all this, because we'll be filling out Financial Aid Forms before we know it.
- Again, it's my competitive spirit, but, as a parent, how do you sit in a group like that and not have thoughts go through your head like, my kid knows his colors. He can count to 10. He might not know the ABC song, but he knows his letters. He's gonna be the smartest one in the class.
- Are any of the other parents here thinking the same things I am?
I was having a hard time focusing as a parent. It wasn't a case of information overload as much of it was a case of, wow, our son is going to school!
But, thanks to the director, I was able to think like a dad again. I'm not really sure why I think this is the coolest thing in the world, but the big news was that all the two-year-olds get their own cubby to hold their stuff. I mean, how cool is that? His little Red Sox backpack will have it's own place to stay while he's learning and having fun.
And, when I as a parent goes to drop him off at school, I'll leave feeling like a dad when I watch him put his stuff carefully away in his very own cubby.
Yup, my son is going to school.
Eight Miles High (well, not quite)
If you know me, you know I'm competitive. Very competitive. To the point where I'm nervous about teaching my son how to play games -- even something as innocent as Candyland. I play to win. Always.
If you also know me, you know that while I love sports, it's safe to say I wasn't born with the best set of athletic skills.
Very competitive. Not a great athlete. Interesting combination.
Where is this going? I'll tell you.
I made it just more than halfway up a climbing wall yesterday. That may not sound like much to you. But, to me, I might as well have been on Everest.
I don't consider myself afraid of heights. I'm more afraid of ladders or any other tool you need to get to the height. Once I'm there, it's no problem. It's the getting there than can be a problem.
So, when my five co-workers and I went to a Challenge Course yesterday for some teambuilding, I was like, hmmm, not really sure I'm going to be into this climbing thing.
But, once there and seeing the climbing wall, my competitiveness took over. So much that I wanted to climb first.
With encouragement and guidance from my office mates, I reached my max height. I couldn't believe I had made it that far -- let alone how hard it was.
I felt really good about what I did. I mean, again, unless you really know me, you don't know how big of a deal that was.
What killed me though, was then watching the next five go...two of whom reached the top. Being able to visualize what they did and see their course, I was like, OK, I can get to the top. Now that I really see it, I can get there. My competitive spirit was what was driving me to want to do it again -- so I could be better than I was the first time.
So, that's my story. I climbed. Kind of high. Higher than I thought I could go. That's the cool part. It may not have seemed like a big deal to someone that could scale the wall without issue, but to me, I might as well have been, as The Byrds sang, Eight Miles High.
If you also know me, you know that while I love sports, it's safe to say I wasn't born with the best set of athletic skills.
Very competitive. Not a great athlete. Interesting combination.
Where is this going? I'll tell you.
I made it just more than halfway up a climbing wall yesterday. That may not sound like much to you. But, to me, I might as well have been on Everest.
I don't consider myself afraid of heights. I'm more afraid of ladders or any other tool you need to get to the height. Once I'm there, it's no problem. It's the getting there than can be a problem.
So, when my five co-workers and I went to a Challenge Course yesterday for some teambuilding, I was like, hmmm, not really sure I'm going to be into this climbing thing.
But, once there and seeing the climbing wall, my competitiveness took over. So much that I wanted to climb first.
With encouragement and guidance from my office mates, I reached my max height. I couldn't believe I had made it that far -- let alone how hard it was.
I felt really good about what I did. I mean, again, unless you really know me, you don't know how big of a deal that was.
What killed me though, was then watching the next five go...two of whom reached the top. Being able to visualize what they did and see their course, I was like, OK, I can get to the top. Now that I really see it, I can get there. My competitive spirit was what was driving me to want to do it again -- so I could be better than I was the first time.
So, that's my story. I climbed. Kind of high. Higher than I thought I could go. That's the cool part. It may not have seemed like a big deal to someone that could scale the wall without issue, but to me, I might as well have been, as The Byrds sang, Eight Miles High.
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