March Mania (I promise this will be better than the NCAA tournament)

Supposedly, this is March. And in some ways, I know that it is. But it just doesn't feel like it. Usually, I get excited about it. My birthday, the NCAA tournament, the NBA coming to the stretch run...things are supposed to be coming along.

However, it just doesn't FEEL like it's March for some reasons. And it is these reasons I am annoyed by.

Stuff About March

1. The NCAA tournament sucks.

2. The weather is absolute bullshit.

3. My birthday will happen.

4. There is baseball beginning to happen.

5. The Easter Bunny is at the mall.

Let's separate these into reasons that it obnoxiously DOES feel like March, and reasons that it. does not.

Does

2. The weather is bullshit. Honestly, one day a couple weeks ago, it was 70 degrees. I went out that night and was comfortable in a t-shirt and jeans with no jacket anywhere near me. I promise, this happened. Do you know what happened two days later? It snowed. Swear to god, this is a fact. Also, two days ago, it was 60 degrees and gorgeous. Of course, as a result of this, I worked ALL DAY. Today? Today is my day off and it is 40 degrees and has been raining all day. Now, if it were gorgeous, would I be active outside? Probably not. But I would like to have that option.

4. I hate it. I am so fucking sick of all things baseball, that I could throw up all over myself as I type this. It is the single most boring sport ever. Will I go to a game in person? I don't know. Can I get loaded and have pizza and wings before it? Also, can I spend less than fifteen bucks on my seat? Do I have to drive? If the answers are, in order: yes, yes, and no...than yes I am in. Will I watch a game on television? Not unless I am suffering from insomnia or am pulling a Dimmesdale and punishing myself for something. I don't ever want to watch a baseball game on TV again...that's how much fuck baseball.

5. The Easter Bunny is always there, and I always wonder why. Do kids ask him for stuff? Isn't this why we have Santa? Also, it isn't even remotely believable that it is a real bunny. For real. At least with Santa, he is the size of a real person, looks like a real person, and IS A REAL PERSON! That "bunny"? Not even close. It's big, plastic, doughy eyes sort of stare at you blankly. Then, there's that weird seam between his neck and his torso...how do kids buy this? Are they THAT stupid? Also, the Easter Bunny was spotted smoking a menthol cigarette in the alley behind Harry Buffalo. Just sayin'.

Does Not

1. I used to enjoy the NCAA tournament. I used to get excited and throw a bunch of money away on brackets, call off of work on the first day of the tourney, and use it as an excuse to get loaded in the afternoon. Now? I hate it. The basketball is not high quality, the athletes--for the most part--are not high quality, and the announcing is ridiculous. And can we stop the charade that every team has a chance? They don't. A 16-seed has never beaten a 1-seed. Let alone win more than that game or a title. To hell with college sports. They are crap. Except BGSU women's basketball; those of you that know me, know why this is...can you blame me?

3. Evidently, I will be 25. Who knew? I feel old. Not OLDER than I was/am. Just OLD in general. I don't want gifts, I don't want a party, I don't even really want/need to use it as an excuse to get loaded. I think that being 25 means that you don't need a reason, or a defence for your desire to do so. I will have dinner with my parents and potentially my brother and grandmother. I will enjoy a great meal and my family's company, and really, what more do you need from a birthday? I had a girl ask me recently, "What are you gonna get for your birthday?" What? I don't know. Nothing? And that's fine. All I really need is jeans and boxers. Maybe a t-shirt. Am I concerned? No. The one disconcerting thing here is that I used get AMPED for birthdays. Old sucks. And the real bad part? I am only getting older.

I don't mean to sound like I'm being bitchy. It isn't that March has been terrible. Not for me at least. How about all of you?

Here's to April bringing better weather, better basketball, and of course, the NFL Draft.

--
JPD

Can You Come Out To Play?

Everyone is making a bigass deal out of these Zhu Zhu pets, the motorized hamsters that became the must-have gift last Christmas. Crappy toy, in my opinion. What can you really do with it? No staying power there. Reading that article got me thinking about my own Favorite Playthings from my childhood (way back before computers and microchips but well after dinosaurs and log cabins). Here's my list of

Top 5 Toys

1. Spirograph
2. Etch-A-Sketch
3. Play Doh
4. Fun Flowers Thingmaker Set
5. Crayola 64 Crayon Box

These toys all had major staying power because they were interactive and produced something. They weren't necessarily--bad word here--educational--but you did more than just wind them up and watch them.

Spirograph: This was the most incredible toy. I'm sure someplace some engineer thought altruistically, "I'm teaching kiddies about parabolas and geometry and sine and cosine" or something mathy like that, but I never thought that. I just picked out a disc, stuck a colored pen in the hole, and started carefully fitting the teeth together of disc and stationary part. It was awesome the way a beautiful snowflakey-looking shape suddenly appeared. I used to sit and do this for hours. Once for Christmas I got a huge pen with about two dozen different colors of ink in its barrel that could be used interchangeably. It made Spirograph 24 times more exciting.

Etch-A-Sketch: Man, this thing also kept me busy forever. I got so I could draw almost anything on it, but my favorite thing was a nice, neat house with windowboxes, front steps, and even a house number. I was always curious about how it worked, but my dad told me, so I never had to break it open. I still love this toy, and both my kids always had one. Truth be told, I think I played with it far more than they ever did.

Play Doh: Let me tell you, I played with this stuff far longer than is probably normal or healthy, and the fact that my little sister is five years younger than I am prolonged my Play Doh Playtime, a fact for which I am immensely grateful. I especially loved that simple extruder toy, The Play Doh Fun Factory. I used to sit and make a ton of pretend baked goods, plates of pretend restaurant entrees and desserts, you name it. I was especially proud of of my Play Doh Fruit Plates.

The Fun Flowers Thingmaker Set: This toy would never fly in this day and age, for it reached temperatures of probably five hundred degrees, used bare metal plates without a safety covering, and the Plastigoop had more poison/toxicity warnings on it than a medical waste facility. Basically, it was a nightmare. But I loved making the rubbery little flowers and faces and leaves and then putting them on florist's wire and...having them. Bunches and Bunches of them. My mother detested cleaning up the oily residue of the Plastigoop from the carpet and table and floor (during one memorable summer, she even forbid me from playing with the Thingmaker on the concrete front porch), but she never seemed even remotely concerned with the dozens of burns I got on my fingers. Moms back then were way less hovery.

64 Crayola Crayon Box: Not only was this The Big Box Of Crayons, it had a built-in crayon sharpener! This was THE BOX OF CRAYONS. I got one of these for Christmas every year because it made My List every year. Sometimes, I got one for my birthday. Holy Crap, I loved this box of crayons. This used to be The Biggest Box They Made. There were days I would take the crayons out and just organize them in the box: you know, put all the greens together, all the oranges together, all the blues together, etc. I knew the names of the colors like the saint names in the prayer of the Eucharist at mass: apricot, burnt sienna, thistle, sepia, bittersweet, magenta, cornflower...ah! What the Crayola people have done to some of these classic colors is shameful. I still find coloring in a good coloring book very therapeutic. Good luck with that, though--finding a good coloring book. Most are shills for cartoon characters. Sad.

You know what's next, Stuff readers: your turn to take that stroll down Memory Lane and identify your favorite childhood toys. Let's see what you toss into the playpen.

What In The Hell Am I Talking About?

Did you ever hear something come out of your mouth and think, That's something I never thought I'd hear myself say"? That happens to me way more than I care to admit. Here's my list of

Stuff I Can't Believe I Heard Come Out Of My Own Mouth

1. They should have put a hip roof on that shed.
2. Who is available as a free agent at the All Star break?
3. With his speed and heat, Kerry Wood should have been a closer all along.
4. They are going to lose control of that concrete in this heat if they don't put some water on it.
5. The Titans will never cover that spread; I think the line is way off this week.

I know, right? Who is writing the post this week? This is what happens when an artsy-literary-foodie marries a carpenter/construction/sporty guy and gives birth to two sons. It's called self-defense. I now have an expanded lexicon that includes building and carpentry terms like hip roof, and sports terms like free agency and closer. During one memorable dinner, I mastered the complexities of the NBA's midlevel exception and Bird rights and how it all related to "our" team, the Cleveland Cavaliers. Good heavens. And while last year, I couldn't even sit through a football game, this year I'm in the family pool and betting the Vegas line. (Which I detest, by the way. I can do swimmingly picking the winners, but is that enough for Jared? Oh, no. For it is not enough to know who is better. "Anyone can know that, Mom," he says derisively. "The challenge is to know how much better they are. And that is the point spread." Sigh. Why is he so difficult?)

What about all of you? What do you find yourself talking about that amazes you? Let's see if your stuff expands our vocabulary!

It Starts With An Airplane And Ends With Underwear, But It's Not The Mile-High Club--But There Is Sighing Nonetheless

At the risk of showing my age, I remember stuff being a Whole Lot Better. Oh sure, there are plenty of things now that I am damn glad I have: a home computer, a hybrid car, Project Runway, just to name a few. But in my dotage, I find that there are more than a few times that I find myself thinking about

Stuff I Miss

1. No-hassle air travel
2. Mars bars
3. Good crayons and coloring books
4. Real TV schedules
5. Drinking soda
6. Cheap nylon bikini underwear


An eclectic list, I know, and one that cries out for explanation. Allow me:

^*^I can remember not so very long ago when I used to take two or three little trips a year to visit friends in Florida or Maryland or Chicago or Denver. As long as I bought my tickets about a month in advance, I could get away really cheaply, pack a decent-sized bag, and zip away with not a care in the world. I'd arrive at the airport about 45 minutes ahead of time with Rick and sometimes the boys in tow and they'd even wait with me at the gate! I could stroll through security--such as it was--in a comparative millisecond, walk onto the plane with a full meal and full-size toiletries in my bag and jet off. Forget all of that now. Air travel now is nothing but an exercise in torture and logistical nightmares involving calculations that defy me in every way. Don't even mention the prohibitive cost. Screw that. The "friendly skies" can kiss my ass.

^*^I have already spoken about my Lost Love Affair with the Mars Bar here. It is nothing short of tragic that I cannot buy this simple confection in the US. If any International Reader wants to hook me up with this fine sweet, email me. I remain morose.

^*^When I was a kid, I adored coloring pictures. I would sprawl out on the floor with my Crayola 64's and my Big Book of Nature coloring book and be in Heaven. Back then, the crayons colored wonderfully. They did not flake and curl and peel on the page when you pressed hard to make the colors dark and shiny. Now, crayons are crappy. And what is up with the new colors with the dorky names? Crayola keeps screwing around with crayon colors and, obviously, with their formula. And what is up with coloring books, too? Now they are all corporate bullshit. You can't find a decent coloring book. All they are is product tie-ins or licensed characters. That's lousy. Every once in a while, I'd still color a few pictures for a therapeutic effect if they made decent crayons and coloring books that weren't commercials for dolls and cartoons. If I tried to color now, it would just make me more pissed.

^*^Remember the days when the new TV season started in September and ended in June? And the shows were on certain days of the week? And you could count on that? NOT ANY MORE! Now, reruns happen IN THE SAME WEEK AND WITHOUT ANY SORT OF RHYME OR REASON. The TV season might start in January and end in March. A show might run on Tuesday and again on Thursday. The next week, it might run on Thursday. Then, the rerun might appear on Friday. WHO KNOWS? THEN THERE MIGHT BE A HIATUS! Does anyone know what happened to "House?" Did I miss something? Sigh. I feel like I'm getting mugged by TV.

^*^This one is a personal thing. About ten years ago, I went on a medicine to prevent my constant and debilitating migraines. It worked, and I'm so grateful. But, one of the side effects that remains is that I cannot drink any carbonated beverage. So, no soda for me. Every once in a while, I miss Diet Coke, Diet Dr. Pepper, even the occasional root beer. The only soft drink I drink is water. Water, water, water, water, water. It has also altered my tastebuds and there are certain flavors I can no longer discern, like tea. So, no iced tea either. The tradeoff is, of course, no more frequent migraines, but I miss soda.

^*^As a child of the seventies, I was a devotee of nylon bikini underwear. My older sis and I both wore it. We loved buying it at a local cheapo store in all kinds of wild patterns and colors. I still love it--it's comfortable, snug pants and skirts slide right over it, seams don't show, it's lightweight. Why is it impossible to find now? Everywhere you look for ladies' underwear, it is all cotton, microfiber, and ridiculously overpriced. IT IS JUST UNDERWEAR, PEOPLE. GOOD HEAVENS. And I am all about the bikini cut. No thong, no high-thigh cut, no boyshort bullshit. Come on. This should not be that tough. Yet it is.

Your turn, Stuff Readers. No matter your age, there have to be a few Things You Pine For, too. What are they?

Hey, How Come You're Doing That?

Nobody is perfect and we all enjoy different things. I get that. Also, I am not so self-centered as to think that everyone enjoys, or should enjoy, the same things that I enjoy.

However, there are some things that people do that make me scratch my head and go "why?" Here is a list of activities that people enjoy...and I cannot figure out why:

5 Things People Enjoy That I Don't
1. Running
2. Convertibles
3. Halo
4. Rain
5. Sledding

Follow me here...

1. Running has to be my least favorite thing. Is something/someone chasing me? No? Then I'll walk, that's fine. It is sweaty, and it makes your legs, back, and sometimes lungs hurt. I'm sorry, but if I want to inflict pain on myself, I'll watch a Cubs game and punch myself in the face 100 times. Plus, there is something discomforting about setting out on a fast-paced journey all the way to...where I started? I'm confused.

2. I guess convertibles look cool. Sorta. But how can you enjoy trying to drive while the wind barrels down on you like you're on a roller coaster? They are a climate nightmare as well. If it is hot and you have the top down, IT'S STILL HOT. If it is cold, you cannot put the top down. Also, what if it begins to rain and you are on the highway? You're gonna pull over and put the top up? That just sounds dangerous. Plus, all that drag cannot be good for gas mileage. Simply having these things to think about during my ride would stress me to the point of no return. I would simply get in the car and say "eh, fuck all that, I'll just ride with the top up." And if I am dying for a stiff breeze, I'll borrow my mom's hair dryer.

3. Full disclosure: I am terrible at Halo. And that may be why I don't get it. But also, there's nothing to gain from it. It is a time hog, and if you win, there's no proof. At school people used to LOVE to play Halo. It caused more arguments than anything, and it always made at least one person completely irate when he lost. And the winner? Well, he got a ton of money, fame and recognition. False. He did not. (True, you could say some of the same things about fantasy football which I am in love with desperately. However, you CAN win money and gain some recognition on a large level depending upon who you are and who you are playing with. I am in a league with some notable experts from aroud the country. It also makes watching the actual games more enjoyable. Also, at least it is based on things that happen in real life.)

4. If you're one of those people who say you love walking in the rain, this is me giving you an out. Admit here, in the blogosphere, that you're lying. Because you are. It isn't romantic. It isn't relaxing. It's...wet. And sloppy. And potentially dangerous. Please, stop trying to seem thoughtful. Or "deep." Thoughtful people have the wherewithal to wait for the rain to stop.

5. Again, sledding is an activity that is wet, sloppy, definitely dangerous, and more work than it is worth. First, you go down the steep hill next to other people who, like you, have ZERO CONTROL over where the thin piece of plastic between them and the snow is going. And as an added bonus, you get to then haul your wet, tired self BACK UP THE HILL WHILE YOU HOLD YOUR CHARIOT! What? I'm not trying to be dramatic or employ hyperbole here, but...every time I see someone carrying his sled back up the hill, I cannot help but think of Jesus carrying his own cross. Also, have you ever had snow inside your shoes? Your gloves? Your hat? Well, if you haven't, or if it's been a while and you're dying for discomfort, please, go sledding. Even when I was little, I hated it. Fuck snow. Also, look around you. When you go sledding, if you are over 12, there is a 99% chance that you (or someone you are with) are the oldest person there.

I am not saying that people shouldn't enjoy these things. I am simply letting everyone know that I don't get it. Please, try to explain these things to me. Just do me one favor-- do not say things like "you should try it again!" or "get in touch with your childhood!" I can do that AND stay dry. If I want to be thoughtful and youthful, I will simply wait until it rains or snows and throw in a Disney movie and try to find symbolism or gender characterization, or some sort of overt, poorly hidden sexual innuendo or imaging, or links to communism, or something.

Thoughts?

--

JPD

Stuff That Is Dead To Us

Somewhere along the line, something happened. An episode, an accident, an incident, whatever. The point is that sometimes in life, something happens and turns us against things. You go your whole life having no real issue with something, then....BANG. That thing is now dead to you. To hell with that thing. You'll never use that thing again, eat that thing again, watch that thing again, or go to that thing again--that's how much to hell with it.

I, Jared, declare the following things

Stuff That Is Dead To Me

1. The semicolon.
2. American League Baseball.
3. Chocolate Cake.
4. Ranch Dressing.
5. Vodka.

1. Why do we need this? Can we simply not just...make a new sentence? I have never understood why it is that people use the semicolon. That, and it is also infuriating when the grammar check on Microsoft Word wants me to use it. For what? You are dead to me, Semicolon.

2. Until they do away with the designated hitter, I am left with no choice but to do away with AL baseball. The same teams every year are good, the same three teams always stink or start off hot and come back to earth. Plus, being in the American League means that on every team, there is a guy who is making the same salary as other guys...to only play half the game. Good riddance, AL Baseball.

3. The most overrated thing ever is chocolate cake. Especially with chocolate frosting. Stop doing that, everyone, or you're grounded. If you are dying to have chocolate so badly, why not just go buy a Hershey bar? It's cheaper, it's easier. Part of me thinks chocolate cake to be pretentious. Good day, Chocolate Cake!

4. Of all things, this is the one I am most passionate about. Stop putting Ranch on everything. It does not go on pizza. Ever. I don't care. I don't want it on my chicken. And please, can we stop sullying and embarrassing bacon by associating it with ranch? Chicken Bacon Ranch pizza, wraps, even fucking soup. Bacon Ranch Pringles? Stop it. And simply adding BBQ to ranch doesn't make it "Southwest Ranch". All you have done is ruined the BBQ. Fuck Ranch.

5. OK. So here is the thing with Vodka. It's for girls and people that didn't know what they were doing when they started drinking, so they just ordered it and now it's "their drink". I have never really liked vodka, but I tolerated it in shot form, or as part of a recipe for drinks...stuff like that. Until the bachelor party. Ike got married and we went into downtown Cleveland for the bach party. A friend was buying the drinks and before I knew it, I was sucking down Vodka and Red Bull like it was my job. Felt like hell for two days and last time I smelled vodka, I gagged. No. More. Vodka. Ever. That's how much fuck vodka.

We're double-teaming you this post, so here's Nance:

Stuff That Is Dead To Me

1. Cheetos
2. Red Robin
3. Texas
4. Gin
5. Margarine

Sigh. Cheetos and I used to have a major relationship. When the bigass checkerboard Cheetos came out, I even bought my own bag and, sadly, hid them from my children. (I am not proud of this.) Many of my fatpounds could be attributed solely to Cheetos. Then, one day, Cheetos turned on me. I felt an oily roiling in my stomach and a wave of nausea like a fluorescent orange tidal wave. I did not gurge, but damn near. Damn near. As of that moment--and it was probably about six years ago--I swore off Cheetos for good.

Red Robin is a franchised burger joint that Rick and I used to go to about every Friday night. Until two things happened: (1) It became so kidful and noisy that I got frantic and wanted to slit my wrists after a week of teenwrangling at The Rock; (2) I found out that they use a conveyor-belt type machine to cook their hamburgers, not a flattop or grill, which explained why I could never, ever, ever get my hamburger with the correct amount of pink in the middle and instead got a grey overdone slab of meat. Dead to me.

I know I have lots of blogfriends in The Lone Star State, and I don't want to offend anyone, but ever since The Dark Times (i.e. The Bush Years) and having Texas shoved down our throats, I have a terrible preconceived idea of this State. That, and all of the Food Network specials that show all the huge steaks being eaten competitively and the overabundance of "Tex-Mex" food and the fact that everyone there can't eat anything unless it includes chipotle or barbecue makes me want to avoid this place like the plague. All that, plus Tom DeLay, Country Music, the Bushes, Gary Busey, Renee "I Need A Sudafed" Zellwegger...yikes. DTM.

Gin. Oh, boy. Even talking about it makes me gag. Let's just say that there was an episode in college and leave it at that. (At least give me credit for remembering the episode.) Gin? Huh?

Finally, margarine. Listen, there are about 100 calories in a tablespoon of butter. There are about 90 in a tablespoon of margarine because they spin in some water. Oh, but think of what you are giving up! Succinctly--just your soul! It's OIL AND WATER, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN. I used to use margarine all the time--Fleischmann's, to be exact, and it is still the best of the worst. But butter is better. It tastes so much better. I put a stick out in my little crockery Butter Cow and it is rendered spreadable, so no worries there. I abhor the fakey taste of margarine, but I have to buy both because Rick is still Margarine Dependent. But to me--Margarine = Dead.

So, think long and hard, Stuff readers. What, after long last, is now Dead To You, and why?

Things That Will Undoubtedly Suck About Real Life

This sucks. I am soon--upon graduation from college--going to be forced to be a real adult. At the age of 24 I have successfuly (unsuccessfully?) avoided having to be too much of a grownup for quite some time. But this too shall pass.

Here is my list of

Things That Will Undoubtedly Suck About Real Life

1. Bills.
2. Obligations on weekends.
3. Nothing fun.
4. Having real problems.
5. The rest of it.

1. They suck. I sat there while my father wrote check after check and clicked button after button effectively doling out a large chunk of my parents' hard-earned money. I asked him in complete seriousness, "Peezer, how the fuck can you do this sober?" He just laughed and said, "Because I have to." One of the all-time parent answers for everything. "Because." Brutal.

2. Are you kidding me? This is how I'm going to have to spend my weekends? Grocery shopping and paying bills? Running errands and dealing with yardwork, kitchen cleaning, Jeff Lewis-ing the house to get it spotless for all the company that ISN'T COMING? I'll pass, thank you.

3. This one may not be entirely true. But you do have to deal with all of the other stuff I mentioned. How is it fun? Everytime you solve one problem, it's just a band-aid for the next problem that will show up and the subsequent and inevitable 25 that will follow. Pay the bills so that you can know how much money you have so you can then...go to the grocery store? What do we need while we are there? What's on sale? Do I have my card? Where's the checkbook? KNOCK IT OFF. And if you do manage to treat yourself to something fun, you have to deal with the aftermath of it. It's like I always say you have to work too hard to earn your fun time, and when it's over, you pay for it tenfold. Awful. Horrible.

4. My biggest problem most of the time is "do I have any homework?" When you're a real grownup you have to worry about money, your family, the security of your job, the security of your spouse's job. It's endless. A typical conversation, I think, would play out like this:

Innocent Bystander: Future Jared, what's the problem?
Future Jared: Fucking...all of it. Let's get loaded and bitch together. Deal?

5. This is self explanatory. Here is how the conversation that follows the above conversation will go:

Loaded Innocent Bystander: Well, what else is wrong?
Loaded Future Jared: Everything that I didn't already fucking say.

Real adults, assuage my fear and loathing of realadulthood. Either that, or take this time and space we provide here at Stuff to let me know what I should be worried about. Because folks, it's coming. Quickly. And it's like a tornado of fangs, claws, problems, and obligations. And it is unavoidable.

5 Things I'm Just Not That Into

Generally, as I've gotten older, I've gotten a little more tolerant in many areas. But I have to admit that in some things, I've become pretty set in my ways. I do realize that there are some of my tastes that make my life a bit onerous, and try as I might, I just cannot change my ways. Here then is my list of
Stuff I Wish I Liked

1. Popcorn
2. Contemporary Fiction
3. Winter
4. Musicals
5. Olive Garden restaurant

These are in no particular order, by the way, and none of them have really ruined my life. But honestly, actively disliking each one has made an impact. For example, popcorn is a healthy, low-calorie snack that is also (unless you buy it at the theater) really cheap. In college, everyone had an air-popper--then a newfangled contraption--and the dorm halls reeked of the stuff. I don't like it. And, it simply wrecks my guts. Period. Every now and again, I crave caramel corn, eat an entire bag of it, and suffer major consequences. But plain popcorn could have been a go-to snack for me when I was overweight for the first 30 years of my life and sadly, I couldn't go to it.

Those of you who read me over at the Dept. know that I cannot read much new fiction. I teach creative writing (i.e. how to write fiction) so reading it is like work for me. I am constantly seeing the formulas at work--oh, there's exposition; what a neat way to characterize; why isn't there any setting to establish mood here? etc.--and it is rare that I can stop this. I know I'm missing good work out there, but honestly, few contemporary authors can really provide the depth that many of the classical Victorian writers or American masters gave us. I seriously believe this.

Holy crap. I am able to write this post right now because I am on Snow Day Two here in NE Ohio, where I awoke to temperatures of ten below zero with Arctic wind chills. When I went outdoors yesterday to go visit an ailing aunt, I could feel my bones under my skin. I. am. not. kidding. This is brutal. When the winter months kick in here in NE Ohio (starting in November and not ending until late April and I am totally serious), I am, for all intents and purposes, housebound. The cold is painful for me. I cannot take it. Why must we have it? Other regions do just fine without it. Someone save me.

You know, I went to Toronto to see The Phantom of the Opera at the Pantages Theatre--totally refurbished just for this show--and I was entranced and enthralled. But that is the only musical I can tolerate. The rest irk me. The whole idea that life stops so that someone can sing a hokey song is silly. Well, wait. I did like the movie Fiddler on the Roof and was actually in the show in high school, but even that was pushing it with the ghost wife scene. And do not get me started on the whole issue of Daniel Day-Lewis's next role being in a musical. I am in denial.

Finally, Olive Garden. One recently opened near me, and the place has been jammed at all hours every day. I'm sorry; I just don't get it. I find Olive Garden to be the Taco Bell of pseudo-Italian food. It's bland, it's boring, and it combines about eight basic ingredients in eleventy hundred different ways and calls them all a different name, but they all taste vaguely the same. It's the Taco Bell Principle. Taco Bell uses seasoned ground beef, cheese, beans, soft or hard shells, and a topping or two and yet has about thirty menu items. How? Ask Olive Garden. Most people love Olive Garden, and everyone goes there for dinner. There aren't a lot of decent choices around us anymore, and this further limits me. Why am I such a pain in the ass?

Do you like any of this Stuff? What is some Stuff You Wish You Liked?

Top 5 Signs I Am Too Old

OK, here's the deal: I am sort of tired of addressing Christmas stuff. I know, I know. However, there are plenty of other things going on that we need to address on this blog; otherwise, who will? It's a very good thing we started this, no?

Without further ado...

The Top 5 Signs I Am Too Old

1. I am George Washington.
2. I found somewhere between 15-15,000 GRAY hairs in my beard this morning.
3. Today I answered a question in class with "I'm going to need to deliberate this matter further and get back to you." And I wasn't trying to be funny.
4. I don't stand and yell at sporting events anymore.
5. I read the NY Times in my boxers while I drank coffee this morning.

-On my floor, the RA put up presidents that coincide with our room number. So, I am in room 901. The first president was George Washington. Thus, I am George Washington. Perfect. I would have rather been John Adams, but that's my roommate. George Washington's presidency was overrated. His accolades as a war hero are warranted. But his presidency...strikingly mediocre.

-Really? Grays? And I looked again literally about 15 minutes ago...and I would go so far as to say that my beard is at least 25% gray with some random red hairs as well. I don't understand. It's troubling.

-I said that (#3) because that's what I meant. I could have just said "hmm...can I think about it and get back to you?" But no. I had to say it all...professorially (did I just make up that word?). Everyone thought I was trying to be funny, but I really wasn't. People my age don't say stuff like that. Almost ever. Christ, I'm old.

-This (#4) was my first sign that my youth was officially dead. I used to scream and yell and clap and get animated. Now, I do none of that. I participate in the occasional standing ovation but not with any regularity. Instead? I sit there, play with my beard, roll up my program, and hold onto it for dear life. I am also convinced that this helps.

-This (#5) needs no further explanation. Suffice it to say, I did not read just the sports page and stop. I. Read. The. Entire. Paper.

Ugh.