All Good Things Must Come To An End

The life cycle of a star is long; our sun was born approximately 5 billion years ago. Compare that to the lifespan of the Lake Erie midge, more commonly called the Canadian Soldier, which lives only 24 hours. In between those two extremes is this blog, which has been in existence for almost two years. Sadly, its time is now over.

3 Reasons We Must Stuff Stuff On Our List

1. Jared

2. Nance

3. You

Ok. In brief:

Jared is a twentysomething guy with twentysomething-guy pursuits and a twentysomething guy commitment level. You probably noticed that I outposted him at least three to one. Additionally, he has moved out to an apartment with a buddy, and they do not yet have Internet capability beyond their Blackberrys. This all adds up to A Lot Going On And Some Minor Inconvenience, so he is pretty much not going to be posting anytime soon, not that he was doing so all that often, which I covered already. SO! Moving on.

I have two other Main Blogs, so this one admittedly was not my Main Priority. I started it with Jared so that we could Do Something Together. It soon became something of a drag for me when it looked like it was yet another Personal Blog. I can't helm three blogs. This is the easy one to let go. Just like in a work situation, last hired is the first fired.

Finally, this blog has the least number of subscribers and almost no commenters. It's pretty obvious that it won't be missed, and so I feel that I'm bowing to the will of the public anyway. Please know, the few of you that do read occasionally, that I will incorporate a few Lists on my anchor blog over at the Dept. of Nance. The clickable link is in the sidebar here. I won't be taking down this blog; rather, I'll be using it to experiment with some of Blogger's new features recently introduced. That way, I can decide whether or not to implement them worry-free at my other sites.

Thanks for the laughs and for the discussions we had here. It was fun while it lasted.

How Come Everyone Thinks I Need This Stuff?

People, there comes a time in everyone's life where it is time to re-evaluate basic needs relative to the amount of things that he (or she) has. For me, I try to do this once every couple of months and sort of systematically weed out things that everyone thinks that I need. Upon further review, here's a list of

Stuff I Don't Need Anymore

1. Spoons.
2. Beer cozies.
3. Strainers for the disposal.
4. 98% of TV channels.
5. Daily news.

In order to streamline your life, I have taken all of the thinking out of the equation for you. You're welcome.

1. A few summers ago, I decided to renounce the spoon. For several months, I simply did not use a spoon. I mean, seriously, what real use do they provide. Soup? Sip it. Ice cream? It'll stay on your fork. Trust me. Mashed potatoes? Please. Even rice. If it is made properly, it will be dense and moist enough not only to pack a flavor punch, but also to sit proudly atop your fork, remaining atop it for the duration of its ride from plate to mouth. It became fun to annoy girlfriends, friends, parents, and especially my brother by strutting my forking self over to lay the spoon to rest where it belonged before a meal. (In the garbage? Tempting, but in this case, I am referring to the drawer.)

2. Where the hell are all these people that sit on a beer so long that they need to find a way to keep it cool for more than 10 or 15 minutes? I mean, really. Just. Drink. It. I'm not saying that one should pound one's drinks. Not at all. Enjoy them. Relax with them. Just do it in a timely manner. I swear on all things sacred, if it takes you longer than 15 minutes to drink a beer, you probably didn't want it in the first place. In this case, you are basically stealing. That's right. You are stealing that beer from someone who not only might have actually wanted the beer, but also knows that beer is only useful if one drinks it. Cold. And promptly.

3. My mother is particularly fond of our sink strainer. Nobody knows why. For the rest of us, it gets in the way. Of everything. Of me rinsing out or wiping out the sink after a meal, for starters. But most egregiously, it stops food from entering the bowels of the disposal. Also, if you forget to remove said impediment, you then have to rinse the disgusting meal remnants out of the beast to get it to the...yep, the very thing the strainer is designed to keep it from, the spinning, whirling, all-consuming blades of the disposal. Silly, really. Isn't it?

4. Does anyone need C-SPAN? No. How about MTV2? Doubtful. Fox News? Please. Even I will admit that there are too many sports channels. ESPN, ESPN2, ESPN Classic, Fox Sports...the list is really endless and rivaled only by the number of 24-hour news channels all telling the same story. People, find one you like and trust, roll with it, erase the rest. I promise you that, one way or another, you will be able to hear approximately 92,567 different opinions on the price of oil from one channel. Try it. It is liberating, really. For example, the television in our livingroom skips from channel 15 directly to 26, courtesy Yours Truly. Once you erase one channel, you'll think "Holy shit, that felt great. Book C-SPAN, you're next!"

5. We get it. The economy sucks, Cash for Clunkers was a rousing success, California is dealing with their Crisis Of The Week, and it is still baseball season. Everyday, it is the same crap. Over and over again. You know how when you lift weights they tell you to go every other day so that your muscles don't treat your workout with a sense of "ho-hum, fuck this?" Let's apply this to the news. It may actually have an interesting effect...THINKING FOR OURSELVES. Imagine if there was news on Monday and they gave you Tuesday to reflect on what you learned; come back to it with fresh eyes on Wednesday, get some new stuff, and think about that in time for Friday. Colleges do this with class schedules. It is a system that is tried and true in every regard. Let's make this happen.

So, readers, what do you think? Challenge yourselves! Live without some things. In current economic times, people often talk about tightening financial belts and making sacrifices. Who the hell wants to do that? What fun can be had there? Instead, tighten your frivolity belts in terms of daily usage and viewing. Just a suggestion. Keep fun stuff, eliminate boring unnecessary stuff, and see if it makes each day just a little more interesting. I like to say that we should always try to be fantastic. However, if you can't be fantastic, at least be interesting. One thing is for sure, eating Jell-O with a fork, while perhaps not fantastic, is ALWAYS interesting.
--

JPD

Thoughts From The Mall

The Mall is a magical place full of retail wonder and people watching splendor. People in pajamas, people in suits, people with kids...you name it, The Mall has it. Being as I was recently employed by a large retailer at the local Mall, I have had some time to make some observations. Here is what I have come up with.

Stuff That Goes On In The Mall

1. There is an air of "It's all about me."
2. Food Court = No Rules.
3. Escalators are often mistaken for jungle gyms.
4. Nobody ever really knows what's going on.
5. Most people don't care...about anything.

Allow me to explain.

1. As I said, people show up wearing and doing all sorts of ridiculous things. Wearing pajamas, wearing bikini tops, screaming on cell phones, using the MP3 player function on their phone...on speaker...at full blast. These are all things I run into at The Mall. Seriously? News Flash: There are a lot of other people at The Mall. Most of them do not care about your love of country music, Hello Kitty PJ's, or the fight you are having with your significant other. You are almost NEVER the only person there. Can we keep this in mind when we get in the car? Please? Please? Thanks.
This is a perfect time for my Say It Out Loud Rule. It goes like this: If you are about to do something that seems normal, say it out loud. "I am going to wear Hello Kitty PJ Pants and a 'wife beater' to The Mall." If it STILL sounds like a good idea, then do it. If it sounds like a bad idea, stop yourself immediately. The SIOLR is flawless. Always. You can use that. You're welcome.

2. I saw some kids throwing food today while a security guard was standing right there saying...NOTHING AT ALL! Wow. Also, the Sbarro guy was loudly shouting the fact that they had "hot pizza." Nuh-uh. At a pizza shop? Uncanny. Perhaps the people that were not in line for the heralded pizza didn't know it existed, despite the sign advertising for it...that was lit up. Helpful Hint: Dude, tomorrow, yell about the pasta. Nobody really thinks about pasta there. Someone might say "No shit? Pasta? Is there Ziti? I AM IN!"

3. Down means down. Up means up. When I say "Get off the escalator, where are your parents?" what I am really saying is, "If you were my kid I would snatch you off of that thing so fast you wouldn't know if you were trying to go up the down, or down the up." They were teenagers. Trying to RUN up the escalator explicitly labeled "Down." Grow up. And the first time I ask you to stop had better be the last, or you will be shopping somewhere else. Just saying.

4. "Where is mom?" "Who is that for?" "Why can't I have this?" "I JUST BOUGHT YOU PANTS WHAT HAPPENED TO THEM!?" I suggest simply having an easy game plan before you arrive. Write it out. Here is an example:
-We are here for X
-No, you may not have Y
-We are not eating
-If we separate, meet at Z
-You can/cannot have it because I said so and you don't wear/use the one I already bought you. Do you even know where it is?
This should eliminate any questions. Also, it may eliminate passengers who were interested in anything other than X, wanted Y, were hungry, do not know where Z is, or are tired of their parent's bullshit cliche answers to questions.

5. This is evident by the first four items on this list. If you cared, you wouldn't let the little shits throw fries. You would put on some jeans or something. You would not let your kids climb on the escalators. Also, nobody would argue with their kids, which usually results in a parent saying, "I don't care, you aren't doing/getting/going to it."

So next time you go to The Mall, keep these things in mind. Or better yet, don't go. Shop online.

Should you consider your other options and still see it fit to go to The Mall, I have two bits of wisdom: 1. Give a fuck. 2. BE CAREFUL! It's a jungle out there.

--
JPD

Getting Punished By Next Year

Every spring and summer I do it to myself. I sit around all winter wondering what the Chicago Cubs will do to bring me a World Series ring THIS YEAR. They sign players, they trade for players, they spend a ton of money, and people that really know baseball reveal their lofty expectations.

I am giddy. I am a schoolgirl. I am convinced: This year? This year is Next Year.

I am an idiot.

Being A Cubs Fan Is Like...

1. Being punched in the face 100 times.

2. Being a battered wife.

3. Playing the lottery with numbers you got from a psychic...every day...all summer.

4. Being a female Wal-Mart employee.

5. Being in love with a woman who doesn't love you back.

How so? Do read.

1. This is a physical pain issue. It literally causes me physical pain to watch them sometimes. Plus, is there anything more physically disrespectful that you can do to someone than punch him in the face? The Chicago Cubs have assaulted my visage 162 times a year...for the last 20 years of my life.

2. I keep getting assaulted but in some way, it's like I believe that they are only hurting me because they love me. Because when things finally do turn around, it will be all that much more special because of everything we have been through together. But mostly, I cannot leave them because I love them and I cannot imagine my life without them. I cannot wrap myself in the embrace of any other team's colors. I need a pill.

3. The psychics, or in this case, baseball analysts, say every year that this is The Year. The Year of 100 Wins and a Championship. And then they go on to say "This is how they'll do it." So every year, I play the game. Sitting, watching, waiting for the numbers that ESPN gives me to hit big. Futility, thou art a loathesome codpiece.

4. Glass ceiling anyone? Those female execs, those managers in a skirt, they can SEE the next step up, but they cannot take it because a force higher than they has mandated that they not be allowed to by virtue of something they cannot control. Is it a god? Maybe. Is it a blind adherence to the inadequate, unfair status quo that doesn't get questioned? More likely. For the Cubs it is the tradition of losing. Of not being quite good enough but being okay with that. For an outfielder, taking a spot with the Cubs is like a female college grad taking a front office job with Wal-Mart. They are pretty much resigning themselves to a life of "Yeah, But That's Alright." Are they unhappy? Unproductive? Downtrodden? Not enough to do something about it. Why? Because of the built in excuse heard all over Wrigleyville: "There's always next year!"

5. You call. You spend on dates. You wait around for them to call. You do what they want you to do in order to be what they need you to be so as to make things easier, and you are loyal. Your reward? A complete lack of effort and the obvious air of "I don't really give a fuck." In relationships I call this the Priority --v-- Option Effect. This is a baseball phenonemon as well. For the person in a relationship, the priority or option is the other person. For the Cubs? It's winning. Winning is their Option, not their Priority. And frankly, I'm tired of caring more than they do.

Where is the gin?

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?

5 Things That I Can Live Without

Hey! We're in a Recession, people! It's time to tighten our belts and get serious about cutting back. Here at Stuff, I'm more than happy to do my part. Here's a whole list of

Stuff I Can Live Without:

1. Balloons

2. Dessert/Salad Forks

3. Gift Bookmarks

4. Capers

5. Earrings

And I won't miss them at all. Here's why:

Balloons are stupid and pointless. They serve absolutely no function. The helium ones especially are really dumb because people pay big money for them as "bouquets." They are a pain to haul around, bobbing all over in the car, blocking your vision and trying to get out. Once they arrive at their destination, they continue to be in the way, always seeking the draft and losing their buoyancy overnight, looking like sad, ugly harbingers of doom. If kids get a balloon, they immediately lose it and cry or it gets swept up and murdered in a ceiling fan.

Salad/dessert forks are those littler forks. They are almost never used at my house unless I am trying to be fancy or all the big forks are dirty or lost upstairs in the boys' room. I don't have a separate divider section in my cutlery drawer for them, so they are upside-down in the fork section. I hate that.

When I read, my bookmark is either end of the bookjacket flap, depending upon how far into the book I am. If I'm reading a book without a jacket, then I use whatever piece of paper I can find: an envelope, a Post-It, a coupon, a receipt. Those fancy-schmancy bookmarks are just there at bookstores for people to buy as a last-minute "rounding out the gift" purchase. The metal ones especially bug the hell out of me, and if they are engraved, that's even more ridiculous.

If you have a jar of capers in your fridge, I bet it's about a year old or more. They're a specialty item, and even though I cook a lot of stuff, I rarely use them. Once in a while, I'll grab a jar if a recipe calls for them, and then I spend a lot of time trying to use up the rest of the jar. Forget that and just use green olives with the pit in them, which are stronger than the pitted kind and can stand in for capers pretty well.

I haven't worn earrings in so long that I bet all three holes in my ears are closed by now. I used to fanatically match my earrings to my outfit every day. And you rarely saw them because of my hair. One day, I just stopped, and I haven't worn them since. I don't miss them, no one asks about them or says, "You know what your overall look is missing? Earrings!" Sigh. Oh. Well.

What stuff are you letting go?

If At First You Don't Succeed, Then Give It Another Year

Happy New Year from Stuff. Once again, a new year has arrived, and I have not made a New Year's Resolution. I'm pretty consistent about that whole deal. I like to think that I'm on a Continuous Journey Of Self-Improvement, one that is not bound by Arbitrary Dates and the like. (Actually, that's a lot of bullshit. But bullshit that sounds really, really good.)

Mainly, I avoid the Spectre Of Failure whenever possible.

If I were going to make New Year's Resolutions, however, they would be the same ones every single year. The good thing about them is that they become far more realistic if you add in the Adverbial Qualifying Phrase* "probably not" between the helping and main verbs. I'll show you exactly what I mean by putting in the *AQP--in red--in the following:

Nance's Faux New Year's Resolutions

1. I will probably not exercise more.

2. I will probably not swear less.

3. I will probably not curtail my intake of Lay's Original Potato Chips.

4. I will probably not stop sweating the small stuff so much.

5. I will probably not stop obsessing over my hair so much.

6. I will probably not be more tolerant of republicans.

Now, all of these Resolves become excruciatingly calisthenic and tedious and nigh unto impossible should I actually undertake them to their ultimate success. But, with the magic of the AQP, they become sort of...well...kind of like the 30-year old guy who lives in his parents' basement and sells stuff on Ebay that he got real cheap at the flea markets on Saturdays. You know, kinda like a shrug of the shoulders, live and let live kind of thing. I mean, I'm always trying to do these 6 things, but sometimes, they just don't happen for me. I'd like 2009 to be my Breakthrough Year, but hey! It might not be. If not, there's always 2010.