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.

Sounding Off On The Sporting Life

I don't participate in Sports; they require that you exert effort and I might, therefore, become sweaty. I do, however, watch Sports on television. (Sometimes, I might even go to A Sporting Event "live.") Spectating also allows me to observe those in attendance, and I have to tell you, there is a lot of

Stuff That People Need To Stop Doing At Sporting Events

1. Sending text messages
2. Talking on cell phones
3. Trying to get on television
4. Inserting themselves into the event
5. Taking off their shirts

Even if you don't watch Sporting Events on television, you can undoubtedly appreciate the righteousness of these arguments. Consider:

1. There is nothing so idiotic and irksome to me than to watch, say, a championship Sporting Event whose prime seats go for a thousand dollars, and to see some bozo or bimbo sitting there with a cellular device, thumbing away. If you are going to ignore The Major Sporting Event in order to send vowelless gibberish to your friends, then just stay home! I don't get it. And it is People Of All Ages who are guilty of this transgression. I know dozens of people who would literally mow down the elderly for lower bowl seats to an NBA playoff series game, and some airhead is sitting courtside sending random bullshit to someone who is probably sitting next to him/her.

2. Ditto with cell phone usage. Every time the camera zooms in on a batter in an MLB game, some yahoo behind home plate with excellent seats is on his phone. Naturally, the goofball he is talking to is watching the game at home and tells him he is on TV. Now the doofus has to wave and stand up and act like a moron so that his friend can say, "Yeah, I see you! I see you!" Sigh. Sit down and--here's a novel idea--watch the game!"

3. Sometimes there are pre- and post-game interviews near the seats/stands. This means that sad, attention-deprived fans who are maturity-challenged will stand behind the interviewers and jump up and down, make faces, keep wandering nonchalantly back and forth, wave, etc. in order to be on television. Sometimes they will helpfully yell the name of "their" team or the statement "We're number one!" Stellar.

4. Recently, a teenager decided to run onto the field during a Phillies baseball game. He was tasered when he kept running and eluding security. According to some reports, this idiot even called his father first to tell him he was thinking of doing it. He just wanted the game to be memorable. To quote my son Sam, "Hey. Save your ticket stub." Police also had to taser a golf fan on May 7th. And Danny Ainge, the Boston Celtics General Manager, tossed a towel into the air while an opposing player was shooting a free throw during a playoff game. He was subsequently fined $25K for insinuating himself into the game. What is wrong with these people? THE GAME IS NOT ABOUT YOU. SIT THERE, WATCH THE GAME, GO HOME. HOW HARD IS THAT?

5. What is it about going to a Sporting Event that makes men act as if they are having Their First Beers Ever? Then they take off their shirts in a manly display of...what? It would be different if they were Fine Examples Of The Masculine Form. But, more often than not, they are tubby, flabby, chalky ickmonsters who then jiggle their puddingy selves while their bad haircuts get sweaty and some of them then throw up. Ugh. Again: I don't get it.

All sports have rules. It's part of the game. Maybe it's time for there to be stricter rules about Watching the Games, too.

We Can Put A Man On The Moon, Huh?

I used to hate it when people would say, "We can put a man on the moon, yet we still can't..." But now? Now I get it. The USA put people on the moon because they wanted to. They had drive. Ambition. Curiosity. I see how this works. However, the question remains: Doesn't it take significantly less of each of those attributes to do a few minor things that are relatively practical and provide everyday functionality for everyone? This brings me to my list of questions:

Hey, How Come We Can't...

1. Make a cordless vacuum?

2. Have normalized television programming?

3. Make a faucet that doesn't sound like you're rinsing dishes with Niagara Falls?

4. Make cooperative car cupholders?

5. Create a straw that does not leak?

1. That cord is terrible. Running The Sucker is really two jobs. Job 1: Vac. Job 2: Babysit and wrangle the cords constantly. This is terrible. Also, while we are at it, can we do something about the noise that this thing makes when you inevitably suck up a little bit of the cord? Really? Do the neighbors need to know that you failed at Job 2? Everytime I suck up the cord a little, I feel like I have to get ready to defend my fail. "Am I OK? Oh, yeah. I'm fine. Just sort of accidently navigated over this here cord. Yeah, I know it was loud. Right. I know. It's fine. Thanks."

(Is there such a thing, technically, as a "cordless" vac? Yes. Absolutely yes. It is called Roomba. However, does anyone really trust these things? Let me get this straight. You turn on a ROBOT that glides around your house and supposedly knows where all of the dirt is? And I am just supposed to TRUST this contraption? Not a chance. If a person doesn't vac, then no sucker-running has taken place. We are not The Jetsons. Also, I am not one of Those Men. Those Men that think that housework is for women. Oh hell no. I was not raised that way. Men, run that goddamned vac. Please. Not tough.)

2. QUICK! What time and on what day does your favorite show air? Exactly. Now, don't get too comfortable with this. Because for no reason, and without warning, it will change. Also, new episodes will be interrupted with re-runs for weeks before the continuance of the prior episode. This is egregious. And I want it fixed. This is why I like ESPN. I know EXACTLY what time my shows are on. And if something preempts it? It is simply, easily, and VERY publicly moved to another one of their networks. Flawless. Take notes, Network Bitches.

3. Full disclosure: I hate noise. Of all sorts. Most things are too loud and probably don't need to be as loud as they are. And I hate it. I HATE the noise that the faucet makes. It sounds like someone is standing at my kitchen counter with a fire hose and they refuse to stop until the nonstick coating is permanently destroyed on every pan and that the glossy coating on the plates is totally obliterated. And what's more is that they don't give a FUCK that I am trying to watch television, read an article or do anything that is NOT listen to the goddamned life-ruining faucet.

4. There's this annoying little rubber insert thing in cupholders. I understand that it is there to try to stabilize the beverage in question. And, hell, if you take them out? Why, then you can theoretically fit a larger drink in there! ERRONEOUS! What happens then is that your drink is wobblier than a drunken Teletubbie. And when the thing is in there? As soon as you free your beverage from the visegrip that is your cupholder...get ready because that obnoxious little bugger will attach itself to your delicious refreshment. Brutal. This is why I refuse to use the cupholders in my Focus. Unwieldy, at best.

5. We have combs that will not break. We have bridges that basically use wires to hold up TONS and TONS of poundage every day. We even have fabric that will resist a stain. However, for some reason, any time you whack the end of your straw in an effort to break the opposite end's cellophane enclosure, your straw is liable to bend and break. Not visibly shatter. But create a small leaky crack that will undoubtedly challenge your ability to use it to enjoy your drink of choice. I can run a comb over with a car that weighs 4356758667567 pounds with ZERO DAMAGE, but I cannot simply open a straw without fear of ruining it? Furthermore, it isn't even being ruined by using it. It's being ruined by trying to prepare to use it. Am I the only one that finds this ludicrous? I cannot be.

So, Stuffers, what do you find yourself unable to come to terms with due to modern mankind's lack of effort, despite the fact that MEN HAVE WALKED ON THE MOON!?

--
JPD

Break Time Is Over! Tell These Bores To Stuff It!

I've been a real crabass lately for a variety of reasons that I won't venture into here and now, but it's led me to create this list of

Stuff That People Need To Stop Boring Me With

1. Showing me pictures on their cellphones

2. Telling me about the dream they had

3. Making me watch them do something on the computer

4. Forcing me to wait while their baby/toddler/pet performs something

5. Compelling me to look at pictures of people I don't even know

All of these are interminably horrid. If you don't know why, please continue reading. If I've begun to bore you senseless by telling you something you already know, by all means, go read something else and accept my profound apology.

Onward.

1. This is terrible because it is ridiculously small and I cannot see it. Also, it does not stay on the screen long enough to survive the exchange from cellphone owner to cellphone viewer, and I am not cellphone savvy enough to know how to get it back on there. Already, my patience is taxed beyond belief. No picture is worth this unless it is, say, Johnny Depp naked and holding a sign saying, "NANCE, I NEED YOU. CALL ME AT (and his cell number appears here)."

2. Bill Maher, thinker and political satirist once said, "Nobody wants to hear about your dreams. That's why they play in exclusive engagements in your head." Moreover, your dreams are weird, incoherent, and make absolutely no sense, even to you. You were held hostage in the night by your dreams; that does not mean that I must be. More than once, I have had to listen to lengthy monologues that begin like this: So, I was at my house, but it wasn't my house, but it was, you know? And my mom was there, but it wasn't my mom, but it was, and she was wearing like this gold thingy on her head that wasn't exactly a crown, but I can't really explain it. Then, all of a sudden, we were at my cousin's house having dinner. And my third grade teacher was there, and this dog...." Ugh. Spare me.

3. Watching someone else do something--anything--on a computer is Almost The Epitome Of Boring. I don't care if it is a seminar at which we are suddenly told that we cannot get the software ourselves, but "It's okay! We can do the demo and you can at least See What You Could Have Been Doing!!!!" or some kid who wants me to watch him play Elmo's Happy Fun Alphabet Maze. B-O-R-I-N-G. At least serve me a martini or some wine and a few nibblies so that I don't have to grind my teeth and chew on my own hair.

4. Let's face it: everyone thinks his or her kid/pet is the cutest and the smartest and is the First One To Do Anything Charming. That's fine. Mommies and Daddies, whether their kids are animals or human, have to feel this way. It's their job. But when they inflict this on me, I have to protest--even if I keep it all inside or only vent on the Interwebs. How many of you have had the Dreaded One-Way Telephone Conversation whilst Little Wunderkind merely breathed or gummed the phone when he was supposed to be saying something? Or how many of you had to sit and watch for forty-eleven minutes while a dog cocked its head until its ears switched places because its owner swore up and down that it could say I Love You? Aaargh.

5. The Parade Of The Unknown is an event I have come to dread, especially at school. Students love to haul out massive amounts of pictures, sometimes in albums, and trumpet, "Want to see the pictures of my aunt's wedding?" HELL, NO! I want to scream at them. I used to smile and say, "Oh, sure." And then have to witness interminable snapshots of complete and total strangers with a running commentary that bordered on the bizarre thoroughness of a director's notes supplied with a DVD of a major motion picture. Finally, I just got downright brutal. Now, I say, "Will I know anyone in these photos? Are you in them? If so, pick out 6 or 7 of those, and I'll look at them. That's all I really have time for, and I don't know anyone else, so I won't need to look at any others." Sigh.

CONFESS! Do you bore people with this Stuff? Or do you have other Boring Stuff to add to my list?

Baby, It's Cold Outside, And I'm Just Getting Warmed Up By Dissing Winter

(Sigh. It seems I'm again on my own here at Stuff. Certain co-bloggers are not pulling their weight, and I can't let you down (all 5-6 of you), so I will press on and endeavour to bring you a post. AGAIN. Ahem.)

We here in NEO (NorthEastOhio; this is the Cleveland Plain Dealer's attempt at making this region of the country trendy and cool. Yeah. Right.) are in the throes of winter. Winter sucks. People who like winter mystify and annoy me. Probably they are severely mentally ill and need intense therapy, but that's not my place to judge. Here, though, are my

Top 7 Reasons I Detest And Abhor Winter

1. The cold
2. Snow
3. No gardening
4. Lack of sunshine
5. Cold car
6. I worry about my fish
7. Wardrobe boredom

Here's the part of the show where I entertain you with my explanations:

1. Although saying, "It's cold" seems patently obvious, I cannot explain to you how horrifying this state is to me. I literally suffer in the cold. Those readers who know me know that I am, in a word, little. The cold does go right through me no matter how much clothing I don. My hands are constantly cold and, no, I do not have Reynaud's Syndrome. There are times when I sit on the couch in fleece pants, fleece robe, heavy socks and my Slanket, and I am still cold. I cannot go out to eat in most restaurants without leaving my coat on because I am cold (are you hearing this, Cheesecake Factory?). If my home thermostat is not set to at least 72 degrees, I cannot function. Do not even begin to contemplate how the rest of my family--all tall, strapping men--deal with the Project That Is Me.

2. Snow is pointless and horrid. Large parts of the world get along just fine without it. It is inconvenient, dangerous, and a bitch to drive in. Additionally, it needs to be shovelled. Why is it necessary? It is not. Do not give me that dewy-eyed bullshit about "how pretty it is." How pretty is it when it turns to greyish-brown road snow or is piled up in parking lots and does not thaw until July? NOT VERY. How do you like cleaning it off of your car after a hard day at work? Do you think it lovely and scenic then? Hmmmmm....!

3. I love my herb and tomato garden. It does not thrive in winter. I cannot cultivate it in winter. Want fresh chives for my baked potato in January? Tough. Not gonna happen. Want fresh basil and tomato for a nice, impromptu bruschetta? Screw you. It's January.

4. So far this January, we in NEO have had TWO days of sunshine. This is normal. Winter = Grey Cloudy Days. I am positively suicidal in winter here. Unless I am braindead and amnesiac. Wait...are those the same thing? Not sure. What? Nlkle980389^(*#Ljkng*(*(. Sorry. Lost track of what me doing.

5. Nothing is worse than getting into an ice-cold car and waiting eleventy thousand minutes for it to warm up. My ride to work is about 3.5 minutes long. Which, normally, is great. Except in winter when that, in Freezing Time is equivalent to fourteen hours. And don't give me a lot of Sage Advice about "warming up the car first." That is a waste of gas. I abhor waste as much as I abhor winter. I know; I'm impossible. Part of my charm.

6. I have an outdoor pond. In it are my dear pet fish, one of which is almost ten years old. All of them have names and personalities (Hey! Don't judge.) and I care deeply for them. Every winter, I have to worry about the pond freezing over--which is bad--and I just don't like the idea of all of them (there are 5 now; we lost one mysteriously over the summer) out there in a state of suspended animation, waiting for spring. Even though they've done it for years and are fine, it still bothers me.

7. By the time the middle of February rolls around, I am so damn sick of bundling up in all my sweaters and fall/winter pants, having worn them since late September, that I just can't take it anymore. Mainly because I know I still have about a month and a half to go. That's the problem with winter in NEO--it is often seven freaking months long. I look at my clothes and think, "I hate all of you." And I do, even though I mix stuff up, use accessories and all that crap. After a while, it's like watching reruns of The Office every night: you love it, but you know it so well that you're tired of it.

So, as my students say, "Do you feel me?" Are you a Winter Hater, too? Pile on! What do you hate about winter?

The Top 5 Bottom 5: Merry Christmas And Stop It Immediately

Whew! So...that's over. Pretty much all the hardcore Christmas stuff is done with. All the diet and weightloss commercials have already replaced the food and booze commercials on tv and radio, and most retail outlets are done blasting us with Holiday Music.

Good, because now I'm sick of all of it.

But there are a few Christmas songs I always abhor. Are you with me? Let's find out. Here's my list of

5 Christmas Songs I Absolutely Hate

1. Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer

2. All I Want For Christmas Is You

3. Merry Christmas Darling

4. The Twelve Days Of Christmas

5. We Wish You A Merry Christmas

Oh, don't even tell me that these don't make your skin crawl. I've already talked about that first one; it's so godawful that it made my All-Time Worst Songs list, which was my first ever Stuff post. In it, I characterized #1 by saying it "is the most retarded, rednecked bastardization of the Yuletide tradition I have ever heard. If I have heard one West Virginian-accented male voice hee-haw his way through a request for this little ditty on the radio, I have heard a thousand. Time to thin the herd." #2, a song by Mariah Scarey, is hilariously described on Wikipedia as a song whose "protagonist declares that she does not care about Christmas presents or lights; all she wants for Christmas is to be with her lover." How sweet. And Mariah declares this in a shrill, hooting voice that makes us aware that not only did she supposedly train for opera, but she also belongs in a Memorex commercial. She is just horrifying in general anyway. #3 is a terribly soporific song brought to us by the originators of the Soft Rock Genre, the Carpenters. This awful, draggy, when-will-it-be-over song is so boring that it should be used to quell prison riots. I once had to sing it in choir in high school. We all detested it, and the only way we could make it remotely endurable was to enunciate one memorable piece of phrasing thusly: "...I wish you could see...I wiSHIT ev'ry day." The director begged us not to do it during the concert and was positively ashen with anxiety the night of performance. Finally, the last two are self-evident, I think, but since #4 has so many incarnations, someone obviously thinks it has redeeming value. To which I must respond, "Like What!?" It's dreadful in absolutely every respect. Even The Muppets can't save this atrocious carol. It's repetitious, annoying, and possibly worst of all, slightly mathy. Ugh. And #5 suffers similar maladies, minus the mathiness, but with the addition of plain old bossiness. What other holiday song contains a stern order to "bring figgy pudding right here!"? Moreover, those martinets threaten that they "won't go until they get some," which I'm pretty sure is squatting or unlawful habitation, both of which are illegal. Makes the title of that song pretty ironic now, doesn't it? Wow.
But, all that's over now, and we are spared for another year. Bring on the Groundhog Hymns.

This Year I Am Thankful For Myth Busting

Thanksgiving is here. I love the turkey, the potatoes, the dressing, the wine. More importantly...THE GRAVY! I fucking love gravy. However, there are a few people propagating a few egregious Thanksgiving patterns and I am DONE letting them off the hook.

I will now dispel five Thanksgiving Myths. They are in order of their egregious ridiculousness.

5 Thanksgiving Myths That Need To Be Stuffed

1. It is not Christmas.

2. It is not Turkey Day.

3. There is no such thing as Cranberry Sauce.

4. Dressing --V-- Stuffing

5. Black Friday

1. Be prepared for this. I have always defined Christmas the way it was defined for me by my family, the calendar, and other things such as...logic. That definition? December 25th. Call me insane. I know, this is a radical approach to The Giving Of Thanks, but it is one that is tried and true. I like to have my holidays in order and clearly defined by the dates, or "set times that they are supposed to happen." Starting Christmas the way retailers and lunatic shoppers do in November, or even (gasp) October is like making a date for a Friday night and showing up on Monday to wait for her to get ready. See? It's silly, isn't it?

2. We have a name for the Holiday that occurs on the last Thursday in November. It is "Thanksgiving." Why this insistence on calling it Turkey Day? It sounds stupid. It sounds juvenile, and most importantly, it detracts from what the Holiday actually is. It is not a celebration of Turkey. Trust me, I looked. It is a celebration of the things for which we are thankful. Come on, people. Look at a calendar. If your calendar denotes this day as "Turkey Day," do nothing. Leave it hanging. Why? Because something so juvenile and obnoxiously cutesy has likely fallen into your possession as a gift from a child who handmade it in kindergarten.

3. Sauce = A liquid one pours onto one's food as a condiment. If your cranberry side of choice is a liquid, someone owes you some actual pieces of cranberry. Also, if it can be poured the same way you pour gravy (as this is how one would pour "sauce"), it has probably gone rancid and should not be consumed. Throw it away. Relish? Yep. Jelly? OK. Hell, if you like the gelatinous cranberry side, throw it in a creative and festive mold! You're welcome. You can use that.

4. Stuffing goes inside the turkey. Dressing goes alongside it. In a separate pan, even. Unless you are using "stuffing" a verb. "Man, this bread-based side dish is STUFFING me so full!" See? It is DOING the stuffing in this case and that is fine. You are saying it is filling. I can get with that. But to say that your chef has "made a pan of stuffing" is ridiculous. Make sense? Excellent. Moving on.

5. Why are we calling it this? Seriously. Black Tuesday was an AWFUL DAY in American history. And while yes, the Friday after Thanksgiving can be awful for many reasons, this is not the lineage of its nomenclature. Retailers began calling it that because it was the day they could get their books back into "the black" meaning positive numbers. Have you ever seen a retail report that details such things? If you are in the positive, the numbers are green. This is also the color of money. Furthermore, it can be the color of zombies, which is what most males turn into after 40 pounds of Thanksgiving gluttony clogs their arteries. It is also the color I used to turn when girlfriends would ask me to accompany them and their mothers on 4AM shopping trips. I feel like Green Friday works much better.

I hope I have not turned you totally on your ear or offended your Holiday Verbiage. But really, guys, I could no longer sit idly by and allow my sense of logic to be assaulted my these gross Thanksgiving travesties any longer.

What about you? What do you call it? Do you do holidays one at a time? What bothers you about these sorts of things? Do share.

Who Needs A Reason? Not Me When It Comes To This Irritating Stuff

Ever get crabby and dismissive over something for no good reason? I do this often and I don't apologize for it. Hey, it happens.

Stuff I Am Unreasonably Irked By

1. Brett Favre
2. the Dallas Cowboys
3. Short leather jackets
4. Chihuahuas
5. Chris Farley/Adam Sandler/SNL Male Comedian du jour Movies
6. Balloons

I'm going to try to discuss these in a reasonable, calm manner. Don't piss me off and end up on this list, whatever you do. ;-)

1. Okay, look: Brett Favre is a spoiled diva who held at least two teams hostage while he farted around and ninny-nannyed and Kept His Dream Alive, along with ESPN, ESPN2, and ESPN753's ratings. He is a Walking Soap Opera. I am sick and tired of athletes being allowed to retire as many times as they want and then come back like Saviors Of Their Sport (do you hear me, Michael Jordan?). And if I have to hear one more time about how BF is *gasp!* FORTY, and yet so exuberant and wonderful, I will vomit all over myself. Big Effing Deal. All BF fans need to look at THIS. End of discussion.

2. Do NOT call the Dallas Cowboys "America's Team." I am an American, and they are not my team. Who started that bullshit, anyway? What is so American about the Dallas Cowboys? Their roster of criminals? I hate having any pseudo-patriotism shoved down my throat, so this automatically frosts my cupcakes. The cheerleaders are bad enough. They even had two movies made about them. And, while we're on the subject, why do NFL teams even have cheerleaders? Can anyone think of anything more pointless?


3. What is the deal with those short, tight leather jackets that some chicks like to wear? I'm not talking about as a fashion accessory; I'm talking about--ostensibly--for warmth. There is no way in hell that they are warm. They cannot be. It doesn't cover the butt; hell, it doesn't even cover the entire midriff area. Looks ridiculous. Every time I see one, the person wearing it looks like she's freezing and can barely put her arms up high enough to fit her hands in her pockets. It's insane.


4. When will these sad, pathetic dogs finally be bred out of existence? I mean, Chihuahuas look like an old man who was left out in the winter naked and wet. They shiver constantly and they look...guilty as hell! All of them look like they have either just been beaten or like they should be beaten because they just peed on the dining room rug or something. What is with these dogs? I don't get the appeal. They kind of look like they need a fix...like they've been trying to get off meth but it's just so damn hard! And those Chihuahua owners who dress their dogs? Please. These poor animals have a hard enough life. Don't rob them of what modicum of dignity they possess.


5. Every time someone tries to tell me of the comedic genius of Chris Farley, I want to smack that someone. Hard. I'm sorry, but being a fat guy with no physical boundaries is hardly on par with the wit of David Sedaris or even Richard Pryor. Jiggling your fat will eventually make someone laugh. That is always true. And Adam Sandler? Using a funny, gratingly annoying voice in an inappropriate situation will make males between the ages of 2 and 26 laugh. Not to self-aggrandize here, but I need more. For the rest of the SNL Male Comedians, merely extrapolate. (Hey, even Fletch wasn't really funny. Noted exception, Bill Murray, but even The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou sucked. And you know it did!)


6. Is there anything on Earth more pointless than balloons? Come on, now, really. Sure, they look festive, but then what? After twelve hours or less, they sink sadly, pucker up, and become...sad. Sad, drifting obstacles and reminders of the transience of happiness. And when your little toddler gets a balloon and it A) blows away B) pops C)becomes pet fodder and is destroyed, how fun is that? ZERO--FOR EVERYONE. You can't do anything with a balloon, really. Either when it is inflated or when it's done. It's the single most pointless thing there is. Balloons are awful. Just awful. I abhor waste, and balloons are wasteful. Just seeing them, especially a "bouquet" of them, irks the hell out of me.


Are there more things I am unreasonably irked by? Of course there are. But it's your turn now. What Stuff irks you? Be bold and brave! Call them out once and for all! How dare they, after all, bedevil you?

Yeah, Yeah, I Know It's A Movie, But That Isn't My Concept Here

Ten Things I Hate About You

1. You have a big dog and let it jump on me when I come over.

2. You pronounce the initial "S" as an "SH" sound in words like "straight" and "street."
3. You listen to and believe Rush Limbaugh.

4. You keep saying "nucUlar."

5. You ask me about my vacation or weekend, then say "Wow. It must be nice."

6. You pull up next to me in traffic and keep your music blasting at arrhythmia-inducing levels.

7. You won't pull up your pants.

8. You let your children run around in a restaurant.

9. You let your dog bark and bark and bark and bark and bark and bark and bark and bark.

10. You don't care about anything and act amused that I do.

Thank goodness that this doesn't describe any one person, or I'd probably have to shoot myself that I actually know A person like this! But sadly, don't we all know people who bug the crap out of us and, on days when we just can't take it anymore, can send us to the moon if we don't take special care to avoid them?

Go on. Vent. We care; we really do.

Annoying Annoyances

Stop saying that. Do you know how you sound?

As my friend would say, "You sound uneducated, homey. You're better than that. Be real."

I am sick of hearing people say some things. Not because they are cliche or tired or whatever, but because they are redundant or just plain careless. They make no sense. Here is my list of things that people say without realizing they are sounding like idiots. If you say any of these things, I apologize if I offend you, but see my friend's quote for guidance.

Stuff I Am Sick Of Hearing

1. PIN number.

2. Young kids.

3. I could care less.

4. Small little.

5. Little baby.

Why does it infuriate me? Oh, you KNOW I have my reasons.

1. PIN = Personal Identification Number. Get with it. When someone says PIN Number, he is really saying personal identification number number. See? Now, doesn't that seem ridiculous? How do you get one? Do you have to go to the Department Of Redundancy Department to fill out an application for an application? I am confused. Let's just say PIN and end it. Good? Deal? Excellent.

2. All. Kids. Are. Young. That is the definition of kid. Young person. Young young person is just verbal tomfoolery. It's adjective overkill, really. Nobody says Old Senior Citizen. I don't ask for much, really. I just don't need you to spell it out for me that the young person is, indeed, young. Just assume that I am smart enough to detect his or age on my own. Thanks.

3. The expression is that you "COULDN'T care less." If you COULD care less, then just do everyone a favor and care a little less. There is a good chance that if you are even talking about it, you do care about it a little bit. So either you literally COULD care less, or you COULD NOT care less and are not communicating effectively. This one really fires me up. "I could care less if he wants to go out with her." Awesome. Then go on. You care less! Just make up your mind and communicate it to me like an adult.

4. Someone told me the other day that she had a "small little charm" that goes on her necklace. Well, now I can certainly rest a little easier. I mean, I was worried that the charm might have been small big. Or worse yet, the dreaded large little. I hate that. Am I making sense to you right now? I hope that I am preaching to the small little choir that we have here at Stuff.

5. BREAKING NEWS: Relatively speaking, all babies are little. My friend West doesn't have huge hulking beasts for children. He has babies. They are, like most babies, little. When people say "little baby" I like to think about the opposite of that. Big baby. The delivery room would be a hilarious place on that one wouldn't it? "I see the head. OK, one more big push. WOW! Congratulations folks, it's a beautiful six-foot, 200-pound baby!" All babies are little. Get with it. Please?

Am I being picky? Maybe. Am I being unreasonable? God, I hope not. Because if it is unreasonable to expect people to speak effectively and like adults, I am not long for this world. Blame it on my mother. Despite our sometimes vulgar speech patterns, we do our best not to sound like morons and to hold people to a certain standard. For as long as I can remember, I have been correcting--sometimes, only in my head--people's speech habits in the hope that one day, it will matter. Heretofore (what a fantastic word that is!) it has been largely ineffective.

So what gets you going? What makes your brow furrow and your skin crawl when your friends, family, or co-workers make an attempt at the English language? Do share. You can do that by entering your username name and typing in your password word. From there, leave a small little comment. But please, if you are going to comment like young kids, or whine like little babies, don't bother. Because frankly, I could care less.

And no, surprisingly I did NOT burst into flames when I typed that last paragraph.

--

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

Be Afraid. Be Very Afraid

They may be termed "silly" by some, even "unfounded." But that just doesn't matter. We all have them--Phobias. Fears of things that may or may not be grounded in a frightening experience, fears that may just be irrational though nonetheless real. Here's the

Stuff That Scares The Hell Out Of Me

1. Snakes

2. Hospitals

3. Deep Water

4. Really Tall Structures

Okay. Even talking about these gives me the willies, but I'll go for it.

1. There is no Childhood Encounter with these slithery things that I can point to as The Root Of My Fear. Nothing. I just cannot even look at these beings. My reaction is galvanic, like an electric shock of revulsion and immediate panic. If I see one on television, I have to look away instantly. I cannot even touch a picture of one. It's ridiculous, I know. Incredibly, I saw a huge mural of a group of rattlesnakes on the side of a U-Haul truck while riding on the highway. I gasped audibly and got tears in my eyes! I am insane.

2. Hospitals make me uneasy in the extreme, even as a visitor. Now, I am deathly afraid of hospital infection, almost to a Howard Hughesian degree. I personally know of someone who died from a hospital infection. I personally know of someone who, only from visiting his father who contracted a hospital infection (the dreaded MRSA), also ended up with it and it took six months before he finally got rid of it. Hospitals are hotbeds of awfulness in every sense of the word. I would personally help anyone bust out of a hospital. No one gets better there. Certainly you get no rest there.

3. Okay, this one might be due to the fact that I cannot swim, which might be due to the fact that I am afraid of deep water. It is the Classic Example of Ye Olde Vicious Cycle. The moment water gets up to my neck, I panic and cry. How much of a frikking Project am I? Therefore, I do not boat/canoe/watersport.

4. This one is odd. (La! How hard is that to believe?) I cannot stand next to, say, a telephone pole and look up at it. I get a terrible gripping fear and become horribly dizzy and disoriented-feeling. I can go up into tall structures and look down, no problem. I am a very comfortable air traveller. I used to spend all kinds of time climbing up trees and sitting in them, reading or listening to music or just thinking. But I have the "don't look up" phobia, big time.

So...what Stuff scares you? It's okay...you can tell us.

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

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.

C'Mon, People, Get With The Program!

Patience is a virtue, I get that. But, really, can't we all pull together and put a stop to some seriously annoying crap out there? I have to think that the following things are universally detested.
5 Things People Have To Stop Doing

1. Dressing their dogs
2. Leashing their kids
3. Talking on cellphones while being helped by service/wait staff
4. Stopping to chat with friends in high-traffic areas at stores, restaurants, banks, etc.
5. Waiting for a parking spot, therby clogging up an entire lane of traffic

I honestly don't feel that any of these needs any explanation on my part. Any dressed-up dog is completely ashamed and embarrassed. You can see it in its eyes. It's mortified and suicidal. Same with a leashed kid. That is, plain and simple, poor parenting on display. Or lazy parenting, at least. Disgusting. And if I were a waiter or cashier or teller in this Age Of Cellphones, I'd immediately stop whatever I was doing and wait for the rude customer to finish. And then tell her/him so. It's pathetic how cellphones have diminished the level of basic civility in our society. Now, as far as these mini-reunions that seem to spontaneously occur in the center of grocery aisles, crowded anterooms of restaurants, and lobbies of banks, these individuals need to remember that they are not the only people in the world, and that these are places of business. Certainly, it is pleasant and serendipitous to see a long-lost friend or unexpectedly encounter a distant cousin, but step aside and do your hugging out of the way! Some of us have things to do and do not wish to take all day to do them. Finally, when I--and others--go shopping, that does not include "for a parking spot." I am not afraid to walk for about 15 seconds to get to the door of the mercantile and commence my business. I am not about to sit in an active aisle of traffic and gum up the works because I see someone with a stroller who looks like she might be headed toward the red minivan that is parked conveniently close to the front door of the Target. Move your damn car, slide your fat ass out of the seat, and walk.

Oh, thank you.

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.

Merry Christmas and Mea Culpa From "Stuff"

Wow! So, that happened. We've been remiss in posting--especially Nance--and we're sorry. There are a ton of good reasons, but here are the best ones in no particular order:

Top 5 Reasons We Were Slugs And Didn't Post
1. Finals
2. The Scarlet Letter
3. Christmas
4. Fatigue & Generalized Malaise aka Burnout
5. The Craziness over at the Tie Report

We'll each take the ones that are germane to ourselves and chat them up. Here's Nance:

2. The Scarlet Letter: I just finished dragging my honors sophomores through this, and let me tell you, it was exhausting. Only Nathaniel Hawthorne can take a sexy story like a Puritan pastor knocking up a lonely wife and bury it in an avalanche of paragraph-long sentences and polysyllabic words. If I had a dollar for every time a kid said, "Oh, that was what happened? WOW!", I'd be retired and typing this in the Bahamas by now.

3. Christmas is the workiest holiday ever. 'Nuff said.

4. ZZZzzzzzzz....! Huh? Am I still typing this post? I will spend the entire Christmas break in my fleece pants and bathrobe and (hopefully) new slippers napping, waking only to go back to bed.

5. Since my little Brian Williams Tie Report site got noticed and the AP story broke the day before Thanksgiving, it has been insane. Don't get me wrong, I am grateful and excited. VERY! But the pressure is on. I can no longer wait a couple days when I'm busy or tired to do the Reports. The very fact that BW himself reads The Report is amazing to me. I've been contacted by other people in the industry who read it. Good heavens.

Jared, take it away!

1. It is no surprise, nor is it news, that I had finals and that they were brutal and took up far more of my time than I anticipated or wanted them to. Almost 200 pages written, and nearly 1300 read in a span of about two and a half weeks. I know, right?

3. I recently declared to my mother that I may not do Christmas ever again. This is, of course, not true. I mean, the sentiment is, but the actual denouncing of Christmas just isn't going to happen. It is stressful, it starts in October, and it beats me over the head while at the same time sneaking up on me. How is this possible?

4. See 1 and 3 for other examples of this. Look, the whole thing here is that everything this time of year feels like the biggest deal ever. Last Friday, my cell rang, I answered it, and it was a wrong number. I looked at the Lady Friend and said "Can you believe that? It's almost Christmas". She told me to calm down and asked if I needed another Dortmunder or if perhaps I would like "something stronger like a martini." Burnout. I was burnt out and couldn't deal with the idiot on the other line. Just couldn't.

5. I too, have had some craziness related to some national exposure as well. Get your minds out of the gutter, all of my clothes remained on. I write for thefootballexpert.com, and it has turned me into a legitimate high demand expert. I do interviews for a nationally syndicated program (DC And The Family) every Friday morning, I do a Cleveland webcast every Monday night, and I have done interviews for ESPN Radio in Dallas, Philly, and Phoenix on several occasions. AND I have to find time to write what the site wants me to. Being an NFL Draft Analyst does not, contrary to popular belief, begin and end with the Draft.

So, loyal readers, accept this post as a peace offering for our sabbatical. Once things calm down with Christmas, we will back with a bit more regularity. After all, this is one of our Top 5 priorites.