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.

I'm Outta Here!

The Animals sang, "We gotta get out of this place if it's the last thing we ever do." I find myself in hearty agreement about several Places. Here is my list of

Places That Don't Do It For Me Anymore

1. Applebee's

2. The Gap

3. Old Navy

4. Max & Erma's

5. Express

6. Macy's

I know I usually go in order, but try and stay with me. Let's start with the two restaurants on this list. Those of you who are even snobbier than I am and are ready to start harping at me by saying (with your noses in the air), "Oh, what do you expect when you--assume air of disdainful elitism here--eat at a chain restaurant!?" can settle yourselves down immediately. I live in Ohio, first of all, and secondly, do not have the choices or unlimited disposable income to go eat at Le Bistro de Plus d'Argent. Regardless of all of this, allow me: These two establishments bore me senseless with mediocre food and uninspiring menus. I can make their offerings at home. (And far better. So I do.) I don't think Max & Erma's has put a new pasta entree on their menu since, possibly, 1988. Inexcusable.

The clothing stores start off at a disadvantage for me because I am a difficult individual to fit. The Macy's in my area, which would carry clothing for a 51-year old woman does not stock pants or skirts in a size 2. Also, they lean heavily on the Karen Scott line, which runs alarmingly large and trends toward knits, which I hate. And if anyone can tell me how the hell that store is "organized," and I use the term very loosely, I will gladly listen. That store is a nightmare. Express, which is the only place I buy pants for work, fits me beautifully, but let's face it: I am not their target demographic. I would, however, like to know who in the hell buys puffed sleeve tops, for that is the preponderance of their shirt style. All of their shirts are hideous and overpriced. Even if I were not a half-century old, I would never buy a shirt there. Ever.

Old Navy and The Gap are owned by the same corporation, The Gap being the upscale big sister of the two. In this case, "upscale" means vastly overpriced. Sometimes I go into The Gap just for the entertainment value. I once picked up a little cotton eyelet sleeveless blouse and it was $56.00. Usually, I just wait out The Gap. Sure enough, my patience is rewarded. I really liked a skirt there that was $49.95. Rick wanted to buy it for my birthday. I snorted and said, "Don't be silly. I can beat The Gap. By July, this will be down to twenty bucks." I got it for 14. (On a related note: I am currently waiting out a little sleeveless shirt at American Eagle where they are silly enough to think someone will pay $29 for what is, essentially, gauze. Idiotic.)

Old Navy used to carry some pretty decent stuff for very reasonable money. I would shop for separates there: jeans, jackets, the odd sweater or shirt. Now, it's all crap, period. My sons, ages 22 and 25 don't even shop there. Not even for a sweatshirt. What happened to that store is a tragedy. Their fit got bad, their quality got bad, everything went to hell. Even their commercials. What on earth is that mannequin campaign? Terrible.

So, what about you, Stuff readers? What places are you over and done with?

I Have Seen The Enemy And The Enemy Is...Delicious

Sometimes, the thought of an entire meal overwhelms me. I'd rather just snack, or graze, as some people call it. Often, though, this turns into the sad and horrifying spectacle of me shovelling mass quantities of the snacky food into my gaping maw. What is it about some foods that just make us completely lose control? Here are my own personal

5 Dangerous Food Nemeses

1. Lays Original Potato Chips
2. Fresh Guacamole
3. French Fries
4. Garlic Bread
5. Shrimp Cocktail

Okay. The simple act of looking at the nouns listed above is driving me nuts right now. But for you, I will endure.

1. I have written about my unseemly adoration for Lays Original Potato Chips ad nauseum at my other place. I have been known to hide my Grownup Card and have only the Foldy Chips from an entire bag for dinner if I can't think of anything else that sounds good. I once made my husband hide the chips from me when I couldn't trust myself around them anymore. I hope the staff treat me kindly at The Home when I get there.

2. Last summer I discovered the ease of making fresh guacamole in a bigass Ziploc bag and let's just say that the Ziploc bag was not the only bigass thing until I got my addiction under control. But holy crap, I love that stuff! Do you know that for over 45 years, I had never tasted an avocado, let alone guacamole? I blame my mother for this, and I lived in a part of Ohio that had a significant Mexican population. When avocados go on sale, I get unnaturally excited. Just thinking about it makes me tear up. And store-bought guac sucks. Period.

3. First, let's agree to some basic terminology: those things at McDonald's are not French Fries. Not even close. Wendy's fries, yes. Burger King? I have no effing idea what those fakey things are, but French Fries they are not. They taste like generic, off-brand Pringle's. I love hand-cut, real-deal fries with both vinegar and ketchup, and don't be stingy with the salt, either. If you're an Ohio or Michigan reader, think Cedar Point's Berardi's fries. But, failing those, even good old Ore-Ida fries, deep-fried (don't bake your fries, come on!) and golden with the aforementioned condiments will see me through my jones.

4. More than once during my pregnancies, I made entire meals of garlic bread. I love good bread. When Rick and I plan a trip to Cleveland's West Side Market, we always make sure we go well before 10 AM, or all the bakeries are sold out of their gorgeous artisanal breads: asiago, rosemary garlic, kalamata olive, pepperoni, challah, and before they stopped making it, an astonishing chocolate cherry. If there is garlic bread served with a meal, though--warm, chewy, fragrant and buttery--look out. Forget the pasta for me. I'm parking next to the breadbasket and smacking the paws of anyone else who ventures a grab.

5. When I was little, my dad used to bring home the little teensy frozen glasses of individual shrimp cocktails. They were 99% sauce with about 5 miniscule shrimp in each one. I thought it was the most wonderful stuff in the world. I still love shrimp cocktail, and I'm forever just blown away that the shrimp are so much bigger and so much better. As a result, whenever cocktail shrimp appear, I act like it may very well be the last time in my entire life. But really--isn't shrimp cocktail terrific?

How about you, Stuff readers? What little snacky or grazing foods make you lose all control?

In Which I Am Praiseful And Laudatory Of Little Things In My Employ

I like to think that I do not take things for granted; that I am a thankful person who appreciates--for the most part--How Good I Have It. In this spirit, I want to recognize the little everyday Unsung Heroes that make my life easier or more pleasant. Bet you never stopped to think about these

5 Little Everyday Doodads I'm Glad I Don't Live Without

1. Q-tips®
2. Paper Clips
3. Ziploc® Bags
4. Clicky Pens
5. Kleenex®

(Can you tell that my former student Ian taught me how to do the "registered trademark" thingy?)

Okay. First, let's just dispense with the fiction that no one puts cotton swabs into their ears. Yeah, right. They have to put that crap on the label, same as the Ambien® people have to put the "may cause drowsiness" warning on their label. Everyone puts cotton swabs into their ears. Jared, part-time co-author of this blog, has a serious Q-tip addiction; he has a 5-swab-a-day habit. Why? Because it feels wonderful. Also, because it gets the ick out of your ears. I need Q-tips because I apply mascara like an amateur, despite being 50 years old. I need it as an Eye Makeup Eraser.

Next, paper clips are to me, an English teacher, Organizational Crack. I get them in all sizes, including the gigantic ones for entire stacks of multi-page papers. I can't live without them. Especially wonderful are the binder clips, too. They are easy to attach and detach, but they don't store as nicely.

At home, Ziploc bags, or any generic equivalent thereof, are indispensable. I get frustrated trying to find the correct lids for my plastic containers (which may or may not exist, subject as they are to my sons' whims and fancies, i.e., "maybe I'll bring this home or maybe I'll just throw it away or leave it in my car until it molds beyond all use"), so I employ the various-sized Ziploc bags for many leftovers. If it's a messy, liquidy leftover, no problem! Just cut the corner of the bag and squeeze it out that way! Ziplocs are also wonderful for loose hardware, small suitcase items, unreliable jar contents (slip the jar into a Ziploc for insurance), guacamole making (put all ingredients into the bag and just smush it all together, cut off the corner, squeeze into bowl!), and for freezing anything.

Now, I was at first uninitiated to the Wonders Of The Clicky Pen until my colleague/buddy Roger sat me down and set me upon the Path To Righteousness one day in the Teachers' Lounge. And he is right. The Clicky Pen, a.k.a., the Retractable Pen, is the perfect writing device for a busy teacher. No lid to worry about keeping track of, no ink tip bare and mistakenly leaving marks on your skin or clothes or in the bottom of your pen cup where it clots and dries onto other writing utensils, no having to remove the lid in order to jot a quick note, and you can click the clicky part to annoy students or to help you think--both useful endeavors.

Finally, I am continually reminded of the Benefits And Gladness Of Kleenex because my husband is a Hanky User. I know. How Sad. We fight over this all the time. What on Earth is the attraction of keeping a wadded-up swatch of snotted and boogered cloth on your person when you can always have a fresh, clean, hygienic alternative at the ready? And he is an allergy-sufferer! As for me, I will continue to use a pleasant and delightful, soft and clean tissue whenever I need to...evacuate my nasal passages. And then throw it away and get a fresh one. Again and again.

Wasn't this uplifting and pleasant? What Little Heroes make your existence bearable? Sing their praises and see if we share your joy.

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

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?

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.

Been Gone Since Like...November: Come Here Often?

Oh, hello there. Come here often? What's shakin'?

Yes, it's been a while since I've been here. There is no excuse for it. I want to make that known right now. Nance will tell you it's because I'm a slug, lazy, and sometimes apathetic about most things. What do I say to that? Good call, Mother. Also, that I have been, albeit regrettably and inexplicably, cantankerous as of late.

Now that we are caught up, let's get down to brass tacks. ("Brass tacks"? How old am I?)

My new favorite night is Thursday. Thursday is Boyfriend Night. What is that? Basically, if girls can call each other girlfriend, we can call each other boyfriend...and we do. The place: Harry Buffalo on Boyfriend Night. Let's explore some of the worst pickup lines that I may or may not have used on Boyfriend Night, in descending order of how much I like them. Not based upon their results, but how much I like them. I may (or may not) have been a couple of pitchers deep when these lines were (or were not) uttered.

5 Worst Pickup Lines

5. "Hey, I'm Jared. Does your boyfriend know you're here tonight? Just checking."

4. "Whatever you're drinking, I'll buy one."

3. "Hi, you feel like coming and sitting with us? If you do, great, and if not, that's cool too. Just asking."

2. "Are you drinking Bud Lite? Oh, good thing. Why? Because it's awful and you look like you need a Long Island. I'll take care of that."

1. "Hello, can I buy you a water?"

******************************************************

5. This is an EASY way to see if the girl is attached to someone. Either it's a "yes" meaning "I have a boyfriend, guy. Back off," or it's a "no" meaning "I have a boyfriend, and he doesn't need to know I'm here. Back off, guy". Or, even better, it could be "I don't have a boyfriend". What's that? Oh, that works out well. See what I did there?

4. Basically, this is being straightforward. All you want here is to buy a drink. Who turns that down? Nobody. And that's the key. If you buy the drink, she accepts it, and then reveals that she has a boyfriend, you didn't get rejected, she was CLEARLY interested, just has someone already. In fact, it's HER FAULT for leading you on. See? Basically, you are spending three bucks to see if a girl has a boyfriend, is a cheater, or just likes to have a good drink from a guy with a dominant beard. Three dollars well spent, I say.

3. Nonchalance at its finest. No urgency, not smothering, basically saying, "I'm interested, but only if you are." This needs no further explanation. So simple. So perfect. Plus, it'll give her and her friends something to talk about. You, sir, have done your job. Make interest known? Check. Put ball in their court? Check. Give them a discussion topic for that night and if they see you there again? Check...and...Check. Well played, sir.

2. First and foremost, Bud Lite sucks. Ok? Budweiser? Fine. Bud Lite? Why bother? Second of all, who doesn't love a Long Island? I know I do. And you probably do too. It's got enough booze to be manly, but it's sweet enough to be girly. It's the perfect drink to have WITH a girl. Also, you've communicated that you have good taste. What's more, you have also let her know you have her best interest in mind that evening. Basically, for a beautiful girl to drink anything other than a Long Island is preposterous. Biggest drink turnoff for me and my boyfriends? Cranberry and vodka. Cliche, boring, stupid, and makes me want to throw the drink across the room. Top drink I would immediately fall for a girl if she ordered it upon my offer to buy? Gin and Tonic. I'm marrying that girl. Hands down. As long as it isn't Beefeater.

1. COME ON! This....this friends, is flawless. You are doing so much here. So much that I will, in fact, give this its own top five. An unprecedented move here at Stuff:

A. You are showing your amazing sense of humor.

B. You are still clearly demonstrating an interest.

C. Follow it with "Oh, I'm sorry, that was rude. My name is Jared, what are you drinking?" and it shows humility, willingness to admit you were an ass, and willingness to atone for your ass-holier-than-thou attitude.
D. If it fails just brush it off as "She doesn't have a sense of humor. Not right for me." It's about built-in outs.

E. Water is free. That is all.

Discuss.

JPD

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.

On The First Day Of Christmas, My True Love Gave To Me...Hey! What Was Up With All The Birds, Anyway? There's A Guy Who Needed Some Therapy.

'Tis The Season. Christmas music is everywhere, and you cannot escape it. Some retail outlets have been playing it since November 1st. At my house the rule is No Christmas music until December 1st. I'm kind of a Traditionalist like that.

And some people are Traditionalists about their Christmas music. They like the Old Stuff. No jazzed-up versions, no new soft-rock songs from pop stars to break into their pantheon of standards. Some people, however, are more eclectic; they eagerly add to their collections of Christmas music and embrace the New Stuff.

Let's take a look at both kinds, shall we? In this post, I'll give you a list of

Classic Christmas Songs I Like

1. Do You Hear What I Hear
2. Carol of the Bells
3. The Little Drummer Boy
4. Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas
5. Dance of the Sugarplum Fairy from The Nutcracker
6. In the Bleak Midwinter
7. O Come O Come Emmanuel

Some of these I like because I used to sing them in choir or, even longer ago, in church. I can still remember the rising crescendo and harmony of Do You Hear What I Hear when we sang it in high school. It always made me cry just a little. And the lyrics of In the Bleak Midwinter are so lovely. I like the James Taylor version; his voice is so comfortable, like this old pair of bluejeans I used to wear of Rick's that were already broken-in and soft. When James Taylor gets to the last verse, I am already misty and thoughtful. And even though the lyrics of Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas are full of rose-colored lies, I can't help myself. Sometimes, I think a few moody, haunting Christmas songs need to be tossed into the mix, and that's where O Come O Come Emmanuel fits in. It's got a great lilting depth to it and some really sad, scary lines in there that remind everyone that not everything about the whole Christian thing is all holly berries and eggnog.

Now it's your turn in Comments. What Christmas Classics do you favor?

Next post: New Christmas Carols I Like

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!

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.

Christmas Stalking, Or Slow Down And Count Your Blessings, Turkeys!

Oh, I know how cliche it is to get all steamed up about how the stores put out their Christmas decorations on the fifth of July and how incredibly commercial it all is anymore, but this isn't about that. This is about how Thanksgiving has been shunted to the Off-Ramp Of Holidays all of a sudden. Relegated to the Minor Leagues along with Earth Day and Arbor Day. It's insane. People do more about stupid Halloween than they do about Thanksgiving, and I'm plenty irritated. So vexed, in fact, that it's High Time we got Downright Thankful about Thanksgiving. Here are a few

Reasons To Be Jazzed About Thanksgiving

1. Turkey Gravy

2. No Gifts

3. Side Dishes

4. Stuffing/Dressing

5. Rolls

6. Cranberry Sauce

7. Sanctioned Slothfulness and Gluttony

Like I even have to explain these! Everyone knows that most food exists only to serve as a conveyance for gravy, which is, quite possibly, the most comforting foodstuff ever. And the King Of That Realm is Turkey Gravy. Sad are those whose cook cannot make a decent turkey gravy. For me, that is the single best thing about the meal, and I AM NOT KIDDING YOU. Just give me a bowl of turkey gravy and perhaps a piece of toast and I am in bliss.... Okay. Wait...I had An Episode just then. Okay.

The second best thing about Thanksgiving is that there is no bigass Gift Exchange. NO SHOPPING FOR PRESENTS. How wonderful. How liberating. One can simply enjoy the pleasure of the company of others for A. MEAL. Totally not mercenary. No frantic mall-running. No online retail hellraising. No last-minute shelf-raiding. It's heavenly.

I can make my entire Thanksgiving meal out of the side dishes alone. For me, the turkey is tertiary. I make one, of course, but it's purely ritual. I live for everything else. The Brussels sprouts, the mashed potatoes, the sweet potatoes, and, of course, the...

Dressing! Or, you can call it Stuffing if you actually cook yours inside the turkey. I don't. Thanksgiving is about the only time I make it, so I make approximately eleventy pounds of it. (Or is it cubic feet? I forget. In any case, I make a lot.) We then eat it for the next several days pretty much on the hour, every hour. Cold, warm, whatever. Isn't it incredible that you can make something so orgasmic from just some bread and eggs and...stuff? Unbelievable.

Speaking of bread, I love it, but nothing compares to having rolls with dinner at Thanksgiving. Oh, sure, I know you can have them anytime, but we don't, and even if we did, it would not be the same. I get those tiny little puffy square potato rolls, and it's embarrassing how we attack them. Sad, really, but do you know how good they are?

And cranberry sauce! My mother never had this, not even the canned junk, (not that I would have eaten that), but once I found out how easy it was to make the real stuff and how good it was, I couldn't believe it. I do make this every now and again as an accompaniment to pork or roast chicken, but do try to save it for Thanksgiving. And cranberries last forever in the freezer. What a deal!

Finally, Thanksgiving is such a no-guilt holiday for everyone, unlike Christmas. What other day can you simply eat yourself into oblivion, lie around like Henry VIII, and be totally okay about it? Oh sure, if you're the cook, you have the dinner to do, that's true. But I cook for my three men only--made sure of that a long time ago. It's a very relaxed affair, and we all enjoy the day hanging out, eating, spending time together, watching football and the dog show, and just taking it easy. When I require their services, they jump in. Very low-impact, high reward for everyone.

O Thanksgiving! So many holidays could take a Lesson from you! Good food, good company, good feeling, and good times. The Stuff that dreams are made of. (Who needs all that "visions of sugarplums" nonsense?)

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?

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?

How's That Workin' For Me?

I am really awful at some stuff. I know, it is hard to believe but I promise you that it is true. I am awful at math, returning phone calls, most video games that aren't sports, and separating laundry before I wash it.

However, there are a few things that I am undeniably outstanding at. Will they ever get me anywhere? Maybe. Is that the point? Be serious, people. Of course it isn't. Try to hold yourself back from wanting to come to my house and spend time with me. It may be difficult, but please, the outpouring of affection will do nothing but embarrass us both when I enumerate the

5 Things I'm Terrific At

1. Fantasy Football
2. Ninja Moves
3. Pouring a Soda
4. Countdowns
5. Moving A Couch Bed

Let us explore my aptitude in each area with varying degrees of detail.

1. I just get it. I understand value. I understand matchups. I understand players' roles. But the kicker (watch for falling puns)? I am a master at managing the salary cap. For instance: Quarterback is simply the most overvalued position there is. Why spend $50 fake cash against a $550 cap when for only 50 total points less on the season you can have a very good QB for only 24 dollars of your fake money? You know how long a season is in fantasy? 14 weeks. 50 points over 14 weeks isn't even 4 points per week. Go stock up on backs and for Christ's sake, please get at least two top 35 WR. You'll thank me.

2. I am nimble. I am quick. And I have unparalleled execution. What? Dad isn't paying attention at the dinner table? KARATE CHOP HIS ASS UNDER THE TABLE! Now he's back with us. What? Nance is silently wondering what a double ninja kick off of the arm of the loveseat would look like? BAM! Now she knows. She wants another? FINE! SMASH. You're welcome, Mom. Sam thinks he is safe on his way to the kitchen? WRONG! BLAMMO! A good solid swat will make him think twice next time he thinks he needs dinner! Don't be afraid to practice them, either. But do it in front of people. That's how ninjas do. Make people think they know what your go-to move is...then...at just the right time...hit 'em with a flying-double-punch into a mule-kick! Now that's what the fuck is up!

3. You laugh, but I implore you, do not. This is an art. You ever tried pouring a ginger ale? Good luck dealing with that fizz. Here is how you do it. DO NOT pour, wait for the fizz to subside, and then pour more. Always stay pouring. That's right. Just gauge your speed. Slow it down, speed it up, keep it guessing. Also, please, I beg you, avoid the ice. I have a theory that cold = more fizz. But you have to have the ice in there first to account for the volume ratio of ice to soda. These are huge factors here. I warn, it's going to make a prolonged fizzing sound as the effervescent glory enters your vessel for glorious consumption. Tune it out. It'll be worth it.

4. This one is so important. And, like the others, has real life application. Counting down the hours before we can leave work is something that we all do. Even if we love our job. Here is an example: It is 3 o' clock and you can leave at 5. As soon as it is 3:05, do not think "almost two hours still." Think "less than two hours left! Pretty soon, it'll be an hour and a half!" See what I did there? This way, once you hit that 90-minute mark, you can think "we are almost at an hour left, and an hour is nothing!" I cannot tell you how many days this has gotten me through. Try it. If you aren't 100% satisfied, return this method for a disparaging remark of your choice.

5. It is hard work, moving a couch bed. Do this though: do not, under any circumstances take the bed part out. Why? Well, then you have to put it together. I recently navigated a couch bed down three flights of winding stairs and through hallways about 6 feet wide with my friend Paul. It took about 25 minutes but was worth it. The amount of satisfaction at the end is unparalleled. We talked about it for two days like we cured cancer, delivered a child, and won an election all in the same day. Oh, and a word of advice: don't be afraid to flip that bitch end over end...vertically. You'll thank me.

So, fans, what are you good at? What is one thing you do that you think "wow, I am really fucking good at that; too bad nobody cares and it doesn't matter"? It does matter. To me, at least. Plus, if we cannot have these things, these small upsides, these super important meaningless things, well...how sad would we all be?

--
JPD

Random Pleasantries Only, And Under No Circumstances Should You Feel Any Pressure Whatsoever To Feel Grateful For Anything...Anything At All

Don't you hate the people who wander around with auras of sweetness and light who admonish you to "count your blessings" or--even worse--to "stop and smell the roses"? Ugh. They make me fussy.

In this post, however, I will be listing a few things, in random order, that I find pleasant. If you are moved to do something similar, why, avail yourself of the Comments Space!

Some Stuff I Enjoy

1. Listening to a man speak in a British accent
2. Going for a drive
3. The smell of dinner in the oven
4. Baby laughter
5. Looking at black men in dreadlocks/long braids

Briefly then,

1. I could just sit forever and listen as men like Daniel Day-Lewis or Patrick Stewart or Hugh Laurie simply...oh, I don't know...just read the phone book to me. Seriously. Why can't all men have a posh British accent? It would be like a combination of velvet and chocolate syrup being applied directly to my ears. Or something. Excuse me. I'm...never mind.

2. Like a big old dog, I am a sucker for a nice ride in the car. Hold open the door, call my name, and say, "Want to go for a ride?" and I get pretty excited. I love to go, and it does not matter where. Out to a farm stand for apples and cider, out to a mall to look for shoes, out to just explore...whatever. I'm in. As long as I don't ever have to drive or decide, pack me up.

3. Right now, I am making a lovely pot roast for Sunday dinner. I have been smelling it for hours, and it is heavenly. Is there anything as wonderful as lovingly placing a chicken and herbs or a roast and potatoes into the oven and then leaving it there to merrily roast away, knowing that those incredible smells will soon be marvelous flavors? And all you have to do is sit there and wait. So satisfying.

4. There is something indescribable about hearing a baby laugh his deep, chuckly giving-himself-over-to-it-completely laugh, isn't there? You know that you are hearing a pure, simple, joyous sound that is unaffected. And that baby could be laughing at something as simple as a dishtowel. Love that.

5. Ever since Milli Vanilli, whose videos I watched with complete and utter fascination and devotion, and whose music I still love (I don't care who really sang it; it was catchy and fun), I have been unabashedly attracted to men with braids and/or dreadlocks. I once saw an incredibly beautiful black man with braids AND dreads get on the El in Chicago about 13 years ago, and I still can't get him out of my mind. I am not kidding, either.

There are, of course, more things that give me satisfaction, but this is a nice sampling for now. Have you a List Of Happies?

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