I'm thankful that Thanksgiving comes around every year to give me a reason to be thankful.
I'm not thankful that I'm too stupid to appreciate all the things I'm thankful for that I need a holiday with the word "Thanks" in its title to bash me over the head. (I should also be more grateful for flags on days other than Flag Day.)
I'm thankful for my wonderful wife and my two cute kids.
I'm not thankful for idiot drivers. (And it's amazing that pretty much every other driver on the road is an idiot. If they drive slower than me they are a "Grandpa Gomer." If they drive faster than me they are a dangerous, reckless lawbreaker. And if they drive the same speed as me they need to give me a little space.)
I'm thankful for all the people who serve in the military, putting their lives on the line to protect our country and the world. (People like my nephew Cody and my brother-in-law Jordan.) (One of the benefits of Veteran's Day being so close to Thanksgiving is that by the time turkey day rolls around I still have our soldiers and their sacrifices on my mind.)
I'm not thankful for the idiots, morons, and despots who start wars and make it necessary for our soldiers to put their lives in jeopardy.
I'm thankful I won't be going out for the "Black Friday" sales. (We did that last year, and it was a "once.")
I'm not thankful for "Black Friday Creep." "Black Friday Creep" is either the fact that the "Black Friday" sales are starting earlier and earlier on Thursday evening, or it's that guy with the mullet, tank top, and back hair that crowded in front of us at Target last year. Either way, it's not pretty.
I'm thankful the Detroit Lions play football every Thanksgiving. Why? Because if I miss the game while I'm eating or visiting with family it's no big deal. After all, it's just the Detroit Lions. (Only two things have been entertaining about the Detroit Lions in the last 30 years: a) Barry Sanders and b) Eric Hipple's beard.)
I'm not thankful the Dallas Cowboys play every Thanksgiving. Unless they lose. (I still have fond memories of Randy Moss toasting the Cowboys on Thanksgiving.) (This year? Go Redskins!)
I'm thankful for the Detroit Lions, Cleveland Browns, and Kansas City Chiefs. Because whenever I think life as a Minnesota Vikings fan is tough, I look at those teams and realize things could be worse. (Much, much, much worse.)
I'm not thankful for "reality" television.
I'm thankful for a four year old girl who says funny things that make me laugh. (Like this fall when the wind was blowing a bunch of leaves across the road and she said, "Are those leaves having fun? It looks like those leaves are having fun!")
I'm not thankful for gout. (I really could do without.)
I'm thankful for a two year old boy who has a smile that lights up a room, and who loves to have me read him books. (Except for when he starts whacking me in the stomach with a book in order to get me to read it to him.)
I'm not thankful falling asleep to a television show, then waking up in the middle of the night to a loud and annoying show on the same station. (Reruns of The Nanny are especially egregious at 3:00 AM.)
I'm thankful that instead of getting-married-for-the-sake-of-getting-married when I was younger, I waited around for someone who was right for me. (My wife is amazing, incredible, and fantastic!)
I'm not thankful for....Oh, who am I kidding? I'm just reaching for things to not be thankful for. I've got so many things to be thankful for, and so little reasons to be grumpy!
I'm thankful for my family. My wife. My kids. My brother and his family. My sister and her family. My Mom and Dad. My wife's family. My friends.
I'm thankful for chocolate chip pancakes on Thanksgiving morning. (Possibly a new holiday tradition?)
In fact, I'm so thankful for everything, I should be walking around with the goofiest smile on my face at all times. If you ever see me not smiling, please tell me to smile.
I'll proabably thank you.
Thursday, November 22, 2012
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
The Politics of Stealing Candy on Halloween
I try to be a good parent, but sometimes I fall asleep on the job. Literally.
I know I shouldn't, but it does happen occasionally. Take today, for instance. Two nights a week, including last night, I get off work at 2:00 AM. That's an ungodly hour of the night. (On the plus side, I was actually able to leave on time last night. Many nights it takes me fifteen minutes to an hour extra to get finished up so I can leave.)
So, I got home at 2:30, and found my way to a corner of the bed around 2:45. I say "corner of the bed" because that's what I usually end up with. We have a king size bed. It is very big. And yet The Wife usually finds a way to angle herself across three-quarters of the bed. As a math teacher, I'm sure The Wife could figure out an equation to determine how one small object (The Wife) could take up as much space as possible on one large object (the king size bed.) I don't need an equation, because I see it in practice all the time. (It's okay, though. I love her very much, and I'd still rather share a corner of the bed with her than try the couch.)
Anyway, I got to bed around 2:45. The Wife's alarm goes off at 5:45. (Sometimes I hear it, sometimes I don't.) (Of course, sometimes she hears it, and sometimes she doesn't.) Even if I do hear it, I usually go back to sleep until about 7:15, when The Wife leaves for work. The kids usually wake up a few minutes after The Wife leaves, so I have to get up to tend to them.
In other words, the two times a week I work the night shift, I usually end up getting between two and five hours of sleep. So, as the day progresses, sometimes I fall asleep while watching the kids.
That's what happened today. After breakfast I sat in my chair and got out the computer, checking out espn.com and such. And I dozed off for a few minutes. When I opened my eyes, The Boy was eating a Tootsie Pop from his Halloween stash.
A quick aside: It's Halloween morning, and yet the kids already have a "Halloween stash." Why? Because Halloween has become a week-long party. First, the kids had a "trunk-or-treat" in Grammy's neighborhood on Saturday. Then they got dressed up again and got more candy at The Boy's playgroup on Monday. On Tuesday, it was The Girl's pre-school's Halloween party. So, by the time they go out tonight for actual Halloween, it will be the fourth time they get into their costumes to beg for candy! (Back when I was a kid, Halloween was one night of the year! And we didn't go car-to-car in a parking lot for our candy, we had to walk the entire town and knock on every door!) (One of the good things about growing up in a town as small as Arimo is that we literally could and did knock on every door in town!)
An aside to the aside: The kids costumes are awesome! They are going out as Minnie and Mickey Mouse this year. The Wife made and put together the costumes herself, and she did an amazing job! (Okay, she didn't make the mouse ears. We got them at Disneyland. But still, she did an outstanding job with their costumes!) I am going dressed as Goofy. I was very proud of coming up with the costume by myself last year, without any help from The Wife. I figured I could get several years of mileage out of it. But, The Wife says this, the second year, will be the last year I get to wear it. She doesn't want me to turn into my brother. (We love him, but my brother John, a Green Bay Packer fan, has been a "Cheesehead" on Halloween for 20 straight years.)
Anyway, (asides aside) when I woke up, The Boy was eating a Tootsie Pop. Now, if he had wanted to sneak a candy and not get caught, this is the worst choice he could have made. Why? Because: a) it takes him 30 minutes to eat one; and 2) even if I had still been asleep when he finished, the sticky evidence would be stuck on his face. No, The Boy didn't have a care at all if he were caught or not, he just wanted the candy.
The Girl, on the other hand, is a completely different animal. She knows what is right and wrong, and doesn't like it when she gets caught doing wrong. So, she tries to put a spin on it. She is very good at this. With her ability to deflect questions and give vague answers, I think she might have a future in politics. Our conversation went like this:
Me: "Did you have a piece of candy?"
The Girl: "Maybe."
Me: "Did you have a piece of candy?"
The Girl: "My brother wanted me to have some." (I like how she still hasn't admitted that she had any, and tries to pass the blame to him.)
Me: "Did you have a piece of candy?"
The Girl: "I was going to ask you, but you were asleep." (Still hasn't admitted, now trying to blame me.)
Me: "Did you have a piece of candy? YES or NO?" (I was going with the parental approach of asking the same question until you get the answer you want, raising my voice a little each time I asked. She was being so evasive that this time I added the "Yes or no?" and did so with about as stern a voice as I could.)
The Girl: (Finally and sheepishly) Yes.
Her answers were so good and so "slippery," that The Girl would be right at home at one of the presidential debates. Obama and Romney could both learn a few things from her about plausible deniability and shifting the blame. I'm not sure if I should be proud of her, amused by her, or frightened by her. (Probably a little of all three.)
All I know is that, as a parent, I better not fall asleep on the job anymore.
I know I shouldn't, but it does happen occasionally. Take today, for instance. Two nights a week, including last night, I get off work at 2:00 AM. That's an ungodly hour of the night. (On the plus side, I was actually able to leave on time last night. Many nights it takes me fifteen minutes to an hour extra to get finished up so I can leave.)
So, I got home at 2:30, and found my way to a corner of the bed around 2:45. I say "corner of the bed" because that's what I usually end up with. We have a king size bed. It is very big. And yet The Wife usually finds a way to angle herself across three-quarters of the bed. As a math teacher, I'm sure The Wife could figure out an equation to determine how one small object (The Wife) could take up as much space as possible on one large object (the king size bed.) I don't need an equation, because I see it in practice all the time. (It's okay, though. I love her very much, and I'd still rather share a corner of the bed with her than try the couch.)
Anyway, I got to bed around 2:45. The Wife's alarm goes off at 5:45. (Sometimes I hear it, sometimes I don't.) (Of course, sometimes she hears it, and sometimes she doesn't.) Even if I do hear it, I usually go back to sleep until about 7:15, when The Wife leaves for work. The kids usually wake up a few minutes after The Wife leaves, so I have to get up to tend to them.
In other words, the two times a week I work the night shift, I usually end up getting between two and five hours of sleep. So, as the day progresses, sometimes I fall asleep while watching the kids.
That's what happened today. After breakfast I sat in my chair and got out the computer, checking out espn.com and such. And I dozed off for a few minutes. When I opened my eyes, The Boy was eating a Tootsie Pop from his Halloween stash.
A quick aside: It's Halloween morning, and yet the kids already have a "Halloween stash." Why? Because Halloween has become a week-long party. First, the kids had a "trunk-or-treat" in Grammy's neighborhood on Saturday. Then they got dressed up again and got more candy at The Boy's playgroup on Monday. On Tuesday, it was The Girl's pre-school's Halloween party. So, by the time they go out tonight for actual Halloween, it will be the fourth time they get into their costumes to beg for candy! (Back when I was a kid, Halloween was one night of the year! And we didn't go car-to-car in a parking lot for our candy, we had to walk the entire town and knock on every door!) (One of the good things about growing up in a town as small as Arimo is that we literally could and did knock on every door in town!)
An aside to the aside: The kids costumes are awesome! They are going out as Minnie and Mickey Mouse this year. The Wife made and put together the costumes herself, and she did an amazing job! (Okay, she didn't make the mouse ears. We got them at Disneyland. But still, she did an outstanding job with their costumes!) I am going dressed as Goofy. I was very proud of coming up with the costume by myself last year, without any help from The Wife. I figured I could get several years of mileage out of it. But, The Wife says this, the second year, will be the last year I get to wear it. She doesn't want me to turn into my brother. (We love him, but my brother John, a Green Bay Packer fan, has been a "Cheesehead" on Halloween for 20 straight years.)
 |
| Minnie and Mickey |
The Girl, on the other hand, is a completely different animal. She knows what is right and wrong, and doesn't like it when she gets caught doing wrong. So, she tries to put a spin on it. She is very good at this. With her ability to deflect questions and give vague answers, I think she might have a future in politics. Our conversation went like this:
Me: "Did you have a piece of candy?"
The Girl: "Maybe."
Me: "Did you have a piece of candy?"
The Girl: "My brother wanted me to have some." (I like how she still hasn't admitted that she had any, and tries to pass the blame to him.)
Me: "Did you have a piece of candy?"
The Girl: "I was going to ask you, but you were asleep." (Still hasn't admitted, now trying to blame me.)
Me: "Did you have a piece of candy? YES or NO?" (I was going with the parental approach of asking the same question until you get the answer you want, raising my voice a little each time I asked. She was being so evasive that this time I added the "Yes or no?" and did so with about as stern a voice as I could.)
The Girl: (Finally and sheepishly) Yes.
Her answers were so good and so "slippery," that The Girl would be right at home at one of the presidential debates. Obama and Romney could both learn a few things from her about plausible deniability and shifting the blame. I'm not sure if I should be proud of her, amused by her, or frightened by her. (Probably a little of all three.)
All I know is that, as a parent, I better not fall asleep on the job anymore.
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
May Contain Immature Language
[Warning: This story contains mature language. Language so mature that it may cause junior high school boys to snicker uncontrollably.]
A while ago, my wife was trying out a new recipe she found on Pinterest. (As a guy, I have no personal interest in Pinterest. I don't even know what it is exactly. Is it a website? An app? An online store? A social media site? I really don't know, and I really don't care. However, I am very glad that The Wife has an interest in Pinterest. Why? Because more than once she has made something that tastes delicious and then said, "I got that recipe off of Pinterest." So, on second thought, maybe I have more of a interest in Pinterest than I thought.) (Whatever "Pinterest" may be.)
Anyway, the recipe The Wife was making involves those Pillsbury-type rolls, you know, the ones that come in a cardboard can. (The "easy opening" cans that act like a demented, dough-filled jack-in-the-box when they finally ....POP open.) (Yes, I jump every time.) (And I say "Pillsbury-type" because we buy the store brand instead. They are cheaper, and I am nothing if not cheap.) The recipe involves flattening out the rolls, putting a couple of slices of pepperoni and some cheese in them, then rolling the dough back around the pepperoni to form a ball, so that you end up with a little roll stuffed with pizza.
The Wife started to call them "pizza balls," but then she stopped herself and said, "Oh, wait, I can't call them that." Why? Well, The Wife has been a junior high math teacher for several years, and so she has a built-in instinct as to what she should not say because it will make junior high boys laugh inappropriately. Her instinct told her that "Pizza Balls" would fall into that category. So, she had to think of another name for them. I think she settled on either "Pizza Rounds" or "Pizza Rolls."
(Should I be offended that, since no junior high boys were around, I was the reason she felt she couldn't call them "Pizza Balls?" No. After all, I still laugh every time I hear the name "Winnie the Pooh." I'm not exactly the model of maturity.) (See: slowjoe40.blogspot.com/2011/01/pooh-happens.html)
That got me thinking about what other simple words or phrases she has to avoid for fear of inapproriate giggling. So, I asked The Wife and her mother (The Mother-In-Law was a high school English teacher for many, many years) what other words they needed to be careful with. And then I gleaned some of my own memories as a snickering junior high boy, and I came up with this list of words and phrases that might make immature schoolboys laugh, chuckle, or guffaw for no apparent reason. (Of course, this list is far from comprehensive, because sometimes junior high boys can find innuendo in the most innocuous of words.) (Probably even the word "innocuous.")
* pee--Urine, like most bodily functions, is very humorous. And, if you say it twice in a row (pee-pee), even the junior high girls will think it is funny.
* P--The Wife says she can't even use the letter "P" as a variable in a math equation. (You know, stuff like: 4a + 3c = P) That's how funny pee (or P) (or pee-pee) is.
* thong--Back in my day (which admittedly was a long, long time ago in a land far, far away,) a thong was a kind of slip-on shoe, like a flip-flop or a sandal, which stayed on your foot because of a little strap that came down between your big toe and the toe next to it. (The index toe?) The word "thong" used to be quite tame,butt but then a certain style of skimpy underwear and swimsuit became more and more popular. If you say the word "thong" today, junior high boys will immediately think of butt cheeks. And they will giggle.
* balls--I know I mentioned this earlier. I just thought I'd point out that "Pizza Balls" does sound like a nickname some unfortunate kid might get while in junior high.
* nuts--Very similar to the usage of "balls." (Although, now that I am writing this, I don't think I'll think of a squirrel "gathering his nuts" in quite the same way ever again.)
* #1 and/or #2--The numbers 1 or 2 by themselves will not bring about snickers. It's when you combine them with the actual word "number" that the laughter ensues. (As in "number one" or "number two.")(Yes, bodily functions are hilarious.)
* __?_--I was going to put a word here, but since I try to keep this a family-friendly humor column, it just didn't look right, even though it is a common word. The word has several meanings, including pulling the hammer back on a gun, raising an eyebrow or turning your head in a particular manner, or even a male bird of any kind, particularly a rooster. But, I would suggest you avoid using it around teenage boys. (And don't even think about saying something "warms the cockles of your heart.")
* 69--I've got to admit, I didn't know the number "69" was a "thing" until I was well into my mid-thirties. I was on a party bus going to a mandatory office party in Wendover, Nevada. (For those who don't know, Wendover is 100 miles due west of Salt Lake City, and it is a frequent destination of Utahns who want to leave the state to experience the wilder side of life that the state of Nevada offers.) I didn't really feel the need to let my wild "Nevada" side out, but this particular office party was mandatory if I wanted to get my Christmas bonus that year. (It's the only reason I was on the party bus.) To pass the time on the 100 mile ride, my coworkers engaged in a game of drunken bingo. (I think the driver and I were the only sober ones on the bus.) And whenever the number "69" was called out, everyone giggled like junior high boys.
* pianist--For heaven's sake, just say "piano player" instead.
* tool--The other day we were watching an episode of Castle, and the female police officer pulled her gun on a guy who was using a grinder to try to break through a safe. She told the guy, "take your hand off your tool." The male cops who were with her started to snicker. (So did I.) I then asked The Wife if her junior high boys would laugh at that, too. She said the 9th grade boys probably would, but the 7th grade boys probably wouldn't get it.
* wiener--If you say "wiener" instead of "hot dog" at this point in time, you're pretty much just asking for trouble. ("Beanie-weenies" are pretty dangerous, too.) (In more ways than one.) (Yes, that was a fart joke.)
So, there you have it. Like I said, this list is far from complete, because, in the right frame of mind, junior high boys can turn just about anything into some sort of innuendo. (Probably even the word "innuendo.")
And now that I'm done writing this, I think I'll go make me some Pizza Balls! (Mmm.....Pizza Balls!)
A while ago, my wife was trying out a new recipe she found on Pinterest. (As a guy, I have no personal interest in Pinterest. I don't even know what it is exactly. Is it a website? An app? An online store? A social media site? I really don't know, and I really don't care. However, I am very glad that The Wife has an interest in Pinterest. Why? Because more than once she has made something that tastes delicious and then said, "I got that recipe off of Pinterest." So, on second thought, maybe I have more of a interest in Pinterest than I thought.) (Whatever "Pinterest" may be.)
Anyway, the recipe The Wife was making involves those Pillsbury-type rolls, you know, the ones that come in a cardboard can. (The "easy opening" cans that act like a demented, dough-filled jack-in-the-box when they finally ....POP open.) (Yes, I jump every time.) (And I say "Pillsbury-type" because we buy the store brand instead. They are cheaper, and I am nothing if not cheap.) The recipe involves flattening out the rolls, putting a couple of slices of pepperoni and some cheese in them, then rolling the dough back around the pepperoni to form a ball, so that you end up with a little roll stuffed with pizza.
The Wife started to call them "pizza balls," but then she stopped herself and said, "Oh, wait, I can't call them that." Why? Well, The Wife has been a junior high math teacher for several years, and so she has a built-in instinct as to what she should not say because it will make junior high boys laugh inappropriately. Her instinct told her that "Pizza Balls" would fall into that category. So, she had to think of another name for them. I think she settled on either "Pizza Rounds" or "Pizza Rolls."
(Should I be offended that, since no junior high boys were around, I was the reason she felt she couldn't call them "Pizza Balls?" No. After all, I still laugh every time I hear the name "Winnie the Pooh." I'm not exactly the model of maturity.) (See: slowjoe40.blogspot.com/2011/01/pooh-happens.html)
That got me thinking about what other simple words or phrases she has to avoid for fear of inapproriate giggling. So, I asked The Wife and her mother (The Mother-In-Law was a high school English teacher for many, many years) what other words they needed to be careful with. And then I gleaned some of my own memories as a snickering junior high boy, and I came up with this list of words and phrases that might make immature schoolboys laugh, chuckle, or guffaw for no apparent reason. (Of course, this list is far from comprehensive, because sometimes junior high boys can find innuendo in the most innocuous of words.) (Probably even the word "innocuous.")
* pee--Urine, like most bodily functions, is very humorous. And, if you say it twice in a row (pee-pee), even the junior high girls will think it is funny.
* P--The Wife says she can't even use the letter "P" as a variable in a math equation. (You know, stuff like: 4a + 3c = P) That's how funny pee (or P) (or pee-pee) is.
* thong--Back in my day (which admittedly was a long, long time ago in a land far, far away,) a thong was a kind of slip-on shoe, like a flip-flop or a sandal, which stayed on your foot because of a little strap that came down between your big toe and the toe next to it. (The index toe?) The word "thong" used to be quite tame,
* balls--I know I mentioned this earlier. I just thought I'd point out that "Pizza Balls" does sound like a nickname some unfortunate kid might get while in junior high.
* nuts--Very similar to the usage of "balls." (Although, now that I am writing this, I don't think I'll think of a squirrel "gathering his nuts" in quite the same way ever again.)
* #1 and/or #2--The numbers 1 or 2 by themselves will not bring about snickers. It's when you combine them with the actual word "number" that the laughter ensues. (As in "number one" or "number two.")(Yes, bodily functions are hilarious.)
* __?_--I was going to put a word here, but since I try to keep this a family-friendly humor column, it just didn't look right, even though it is a common word. The word has several meanings, including pulling the hammer back on a gun, raising an eyebrow or turning your head in a particular manner, or even a male bird of any kind, particularly a rooster. But, I would suggest you avoid using it around teenage boys. (And don't even think about saying something "warms the cockles of your heart.")
* 69--I've got to admit, I didn't know the number "69" was a "thing" until I was well into my mid-thirties. I was on a party bus going to a mandatory office party in Wendover, Nevada. (For those who don't know, Wendover is 100 miles due west of Salt Lake City, and it is a frequent destination of Utahns who want to leave the state to experience the wilder side of life that the state of Nevada offers.) I didn't really feel the need to let my wild "Nevada" side out, but this particular office party was mandatory if I wanted to get my Christmas bonus that year. (It's the only reason I was on the party bus.) To pass the time on the 100 mile ride, my coworkers engaged in a game of drunken bingo. (I think the driver and I were the only sober ones on the bus.) And whenever the number "69" was called out, everyone giggled like junior high boys.
* pianist--For heaven's sake, just say "piano player" instead.
* tool--The other day we were watching an episode of Castle, and the female police officer pulled her gun on a guy who was using a grinder to try to break through a safe. She told the guy, "take your hand off your tool." The male cops who were with her started to snicker. (So did I.) I then asked The Wife if her junior high boys would laugh at that, too. She said the 9th grade boys probably would, but the 7th grade boys probably wouldn't get it.
* wiener--If you say "wiener" instead of "hot dog" at this point in time, you're pretty much just asking for trouble. ("Beanie-weenies" are pretty dangerous, too.) (In more ways than one.) (Yes, that was a fart joke.)
So, there you have it. Like I said, this list is far from complete, because, in the right frame of mind, junior high boys can turn just about anything into some sort of innuendo. (Probably even the word "innuendo.")
And now that I'm done writing this, I think I'll go make me some Pizza Balls! (Mmm.....Pizza Balls!)
Saturday, September 29, 2012
Daisy Duck vs. Daisy Duke
I found it odd that Buzz would pick Daisy. (When Roni was that age, Goofy was unquestionably her favorite. Now that she is older and more "sophisticated," she might choose Minnie over Goofy.) It got me thinking about Daisy. Who are her fans? Why is she there? What does she contribute to the stories? Is she the favorite of anybody?
At Disneyland, all of the other main characters have their own house. Mickey has a house. Minnie has a house. Goofy has a house. Donald has a boat. Even Pluto has a restaurant called "Pluto's Dog House." But, nothing for Daisy.
It got me wondering why Daisy even exists. I can think of two main reasons: 1) So Donald has a girlfriend; and B) So Minnie has a girl friend.
I wanted to learn a little more about Daisy, so I started to google "Daisy Duck." (Yes, that is the state of my life now. I actually attempted to google Daisy Duck!) But, before I could get there, auto-correct took me instead to "Daisy Duke." Up to that point in my life, I had never associated Daisy Duck and Daisy Duke. I didn't realize how close their names are to each other. I mean, the first seven of the nine letters in their names are exactly the same! (Wait. Did I say "seven of nine?" Yes, you know I am a nerd guy when I can't type "seven of nine" without pausing to affectionately remember my favorite character from Star Trek: Voyager.)(......Okay, I'm back.)
So, I thought I'd do a little compare and contrast between Daisy Duck and Daisy Duke to see their similarities and their differences.
Relationships: Daisy Duck and Minnie Mouse are best friends. Possibly because they have a lot in common and genuinely enjoy each other's company. Or, possibly because they are about the only two non-princess females in the Disney world.
I wasn't sure, but apparently Donald and Daisy have never been married. They've just been dating for over 70 years. (Talk about fear of commitment! Hey Donald, put a ring on that thing!) (Or should it be: put a ring on that wing?)
Meanwhile, Daisy Duke has no siblings or parents, just cousins and an uncle. Daisy is cousins with Bo. Daisy is cousins with Luke. Bo and Luke are not brothers, they are cousins. Even the lame replacement
And, as far as romantic relationships go, Daisy Duke does not seem to be very lucky. On the rare occasions she actually is dating someone, that someone usually turns out to be a grifter in cahoots with Boss Hogg. (I'm not sure which is worse, 70 years of a non-committal duck with anger management issues, or a rotating band of ne'er do wells and hooligans?)
Fashion Sense: Yes, Daisy Duke has a kind of shorts named after her. That is very impressive. But, Daisy Duck doesn't even wear pants! (This one's too close to call.)
Appeal: As stated earlier, other than Buzz, I'm not sure who Daisy Duck's fans are. Most girls like Minnie better. Most fans of angry birds like Donald better. I'm sure there are some people who like Daisy best, but these people are definitely in the minority. (These are probably the same people for whom George Harrison is their favorite Beatle, Marlon is their favorite member of the Jackson 5, and someone not named "Kim" is their favorite Kardashian.)
On the other hand, almost every man is a fan of Daisy Duke. (At least all of the heterosexual ones.) I don't know what women think of her, but I don't get the sense of intense jealousy/hatred of Daisy Duke like I sense for others, such as Jessica Alba or Jennifer Love Hewitt.
Usefulness: From the episodes of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse that I've seen (which is more than you might think), Daisy Duck doesn't really do much. Mostly, she justs hangs out with Minnie.
In contrast, Daisy Duke often contributes to the Duke family shenanigans. She frequently rides around in her jeep distracting Roscoe, Enos, or Cletus. Or she has to rescue Bo and Luke. The point is, she does things that help.
Bottom line: Is there really any surprise how I think this is turning out? I am a heterosexual male. Of course I think Daisy Duke wins over Daisy Duck! I'm not sure why Buzz has latched on to Daisy Duck. Probably because he hasn't seen Daisy Duke yet.
Friday, September 28, 2012
Travel Tips
Vacations are awesome!!! Mostly.
There are highs and lows when it comes to traveling with a family. The vacation spots can be incredible. The driving to get there can be tedious and tiresome. And living in a motel room for a week can be an interesting mix of relaxing and infuriating.
Earlier this month we went to Disneyland with The Wife's family. We had six adults and four children. We drove from Utah in two vehicles. We stayed in California in three motel rooms. Through our travels and travails we learned a few things. I'm going to pass some of that knowledge on to you now:
*Plan travel time around children's sleep time. This is a great idea. Except when it doesn't work. We decided to leave at 3:30 AM. The thinking was that we would get the kids out of bed, throw them in their car seats, and then they would sleep half of the way to Disneyland. It was a nice theory. But, the kids slept about a half an hour each the whole way down. (Luckily, they were very well behaved.)
*Have plenty of new toys and snacks for the kids while driving. This is a great idea. And, it actually worked! The Wife and her family have a tradition on long drives called "The 100 Mile Toy." Every 100 miles (or so) each kid gets to unwrap a new toy. This may sound expensive, or seem like we are spoiling the kids, but that's not the case. The "100 Mile Toy" is usually something small and cheap from the dollar store. And they only get the toy if they are being good. This worked quite well with our kids on this trip, with the exception that many times when we reached a 100 mile milestone, the only ones awake were me (the driver) and the kids (who refused sleep for fear they might miss some sagebrush scenery.) So we would have to wait until one of the adult passengers would wake up for the kids to get their toys. (But, it was okay because my kids are little enough they can't/don't keep track of every 100 miles.)
*Be sure to have an abundance of "stay awake" foods and beverages for the long drive. Those sugar-coated candy orange slices? Reprehensible at all other times, but indespensible on a long drive! Also necessary: a big bag of licorice to gnaw on. (The gnawing is essential for "stay awake" purposes.) Of course, some kind of chips are then needed for textural change of pace from all the sugary stuff. And don't forget the caffeinated beverages. My preference is Mountain Dew LiveWire, although I will settle for Vanilla Coke, Cherry Coke, regular Coke, or, basically, anything fizzy.
*Let the music play! The driver on a long trip gets to control the music. When we're driving around locally, I'm often forced to play kid music to placate the kids. Or the soundtrack to Wicked to placate The Wife. (The Wife, her sisters, and her mother went to see the play Wicked this summer. Ever since, the soundtrack has been in heavy rotation in the van.) (You could say it's been "Popular.") (Lar.) But, when I'm driving on a long trip, I get to choose the music! Singing along is a great "stay awake" tool. And, if anyone complains about my choice in music, or about my singing, I tell them it's better than me falling asleep and driving off the road. (They usually agree.)
*Have luggage with wheels. I know this is pretty redundant at this point in time. All luggage has wheels, right? Well, it didn't used to be that way. I don't know how the people of the 1960s and 1970s lugged all that wheelless luggage up to their third floor motel room. I can understand why that Samsonite suitcase had to be tough enough to withstand the monkey-in-a-cage test. Without wheels, I'd be tempted to slide the suitcase down the stairs, or just throw it over the ledge down to the car.
*Don't fill your cooler with ice from the ice machine. Don't be that guy. Just don't.
*Make sure your motel has good, working WiFi. Becasue no one ever has trouble getting connected to the motel-provided WiFi. (By the way, that's sarcasm.) I took my laptop, and every time I tried to log on to catch some scores on ESPN, or see the latest Zynga Slingo request posted by my Facebook friends, it would be a 25 minute fight to get connected. (I bristle when I think of how many "cute kitty photos with bad grammar captions" I missed out on while on vacation.) At least I didn't have any problems connecting my phone to the internet. That's because my phone doesn't connect to the internet. It's not what you'd call a "smart" phone. It's what you'd call a "flip" phone. (On the plus side, all I need is a tricorder and a phaser and I'll be ready for an away mission with Bones and Spock.)
*Take advanrage of the continental breakfast. There are times when I think they call it "continental" breakfast because half of the continent is trying to cram into the small room provided to get their "free" stale danishes and watered-down apple juice. It's amazing that, for a motel with over 300 rooms, they provide eight tables for breakfast, three of which will actually seat more than two people. Sometimes they market it as a "warm" continental breakfast, then provide a waffle maker. That's all good and well, but usually there are 11 people in line for the waffle maker, three of whom actually know how to use it. (I should mention that we recently stayed at a motel with a "warm" continental breakfast that provided a bowl full of bacon! Yes, a bowl full of bacon! (Or was it a bowlful of bacon?) Unlimited bacon!!! Needless to say, I will be staying at that motel the next time I am in that town. Or anywhere near that town.)
* Have fun at the pool! The swimming pool is a nice relaxing diversion at the motel. The kids can splash out some of that pent up energy from the long ride. And the adults can take a nice soak in the whirlpool. If they can get to it. There always seems to be that one group of people who seems to think the whirlpool (or hot tub, or spa) is their own private club, and they monopolize it. I've found that one of the best ways to clear out the whirlpool is to bring your two-year-old over, talk loudly about how he "hasn't pooped all day," then dip his toes in, with the threat of putting his whole body into the pool. The whirlpool hoarders will usually get out and find another place to loiter.
*If you go to the beach, you might get wet. And, there will be sand. Seems pretty obvious, doesn't it. But, having lived my whole life in land-locked Idaho and Utah, I was stupid enough to wear jeans and tennis shoes to the beach. Needless to say, I got wet. And, there was sand. (Lots and lots of sand.)
And here's a couple of Disneyland-specific tips:
*Bring lots of ice and water. As the day goes on, you will get thirsty. Fortunately, Disneyland provides lots and lots of water fountains. Unfortunately, all Disneyland water fountains have two problems: 1) high temperature, and B) low volume. I don't know about you, but when I go to get a drink from a water fountain, I like the water to be cold, or at least cold-ish. Also, no one wants to have to bend down so far that their lips have to touch the actual fountain in order to get to the water. Who knows whose lips have touched that fountain before? Why would all of Disneyland's water fountains be so high temperature/low volume? It wouldn't be that they want to sell those $4 bottles of water, would it? So, bring plenty of ice and water. (Or, if you are Mr. Moneybags, just fork out the big bucks for the bottles.)
*Eat plenty of churros. At Disneyland, there are churro carts around every corner. In the real world, there are not churro carts around every corner. There should be. The world would be a better place if there were churro carts around every corner. So, when you are at Disneyland, enjoy the churro flow while you have access to it.
In the end, the vacation was definitely worth it. We survived the drive down, we had lots and lots of fun, and we survived the drive back! But, it's good to be back. It's nice to be at my own home, where there isn't a line for the waffle machine and I have easy access to all the "cute kitty photos with bad grammar captions" that I could possibly want.
There are highs and lows when it comes to traveling with a family. The vacation spots can be incredible. The driving to get there can be tedious and tiresome. And living in a motel room for a week can be an interesting mix of relaxing and infuriating.
Earlier this month we went to Disneyland with The Wife's family. We had six adults and four children. We drove from Utah in two vehicles. We stayed in California in three motel rooms. Through our travels and travails we learned a few things. I'm going to pass some of that knowledge on to you now:
*Plan travel time around children's sleep time. This is a great idea. Except when it doesn't work. We decided to leave at 3:30 AM. The thinking was that we would get the kids out of bed, throw them in their car seats, and then they would sleep half of the way to Disneyland. It was a nice theory. But, the kids slept about a half an hour each the whole way down. (Luckily, they were very well behaved.)
*Have plenty of new toys and snacks for the kids while driving. This is a great idea. And, it actually worked! The Wife and her family have a tradition on long drives called "The 100 Mile Toy." Every 100 miles (or so) each kid gets to unwrap a new toy. This may sound expensive, or seem like we are spoiling the kids, but that's not the case. The "100 Mile Toy" is usually something small and cheap from the dollar store. And they only get the toy if they are being good. This worked quite well with our kids on this trip, with the exception that many times when we reached a 100 mile milestone, the only ones awake were me (the driver) and the kids (who refused sleep for fear they might miss some sagebrush scenery.) So we would have to wait until one of the adult passengers would wake up for the kids to get their toys. (But, it was okay because my kids are little enough they can't/don't keep track of every 100 miles.)
*Be sure to have an abundance of "stay awake" foods and beverages for the long drive. Those sugar-coated candy orange slices? Reprehensible at all other times, but indespensible on a long drive! Also necessary: a big bag of licorice to gnaw on. (The gnawing is essential for "stay awake" purposes.) Of course, some kind of chips are then needed for textural change of pace from all the sugary stuff. And don't forget the caffeinated beverages. My preference is Mountain Dew LiveWire, although I will settle for Vanilla Coke, Cherry Coke, regular Coke, or, basically, anything fizzy.
*Let the music play! The driver on a long trip gets to control the music. When we're driving around locally, I'm often forced to play kid music to placate the kids. Or the soundtrack to Wicked to placate The Wife. (The Wife, her sisters, and her mother went to see the play Wicked this summer. Ever since, the soundtrack has been in heavy rotation in the van.) (You could say it's been "Popular.") (Lar.) But, when I'm driving on a long trip, I get to choose the music! Singing along is a great "stay awake" tool. And, if anyone complains about my choice in music, or about my singing, I tell them it's better than me falling asleep and driving off the road. (They usually agree.)
*Have luggage with wheels. I know this is pretty redundant at this point in time. All luggage has wheels, right? Well, it didn't used to be that way. I don't know how the people of the 1960s and 1970s lugged all that wheelless luggage up to their third floor motel room. I can understand why that Samsonite suitcase had to be tough enough to withstand the monkey-in-a-cage test. Without wheels, I'd be tempted to slide the suitcase down the stairs, or just throw it over the ledge down to the car.
*Don't fill your cooler with ice from the ice machine. Don't be that guy. Just don't.
*Make sure your motel has good, working WiFi. Becasue no one ever has trouble getting connected to the motel-provided WiFi. (By the way, that's sarcasm.) I took my laptop, and every time I tried to log on to catch some scores on ESPN, or see the latest Zynga Slingo request posted by my Facebook friends, it would be a 25 minute fight to get connected. (I bristle when I think of how many "cute kitty photos with bad grammar captions" I missed out on while on vacation.) At least I didn't have any problems connecting my phone to the internet. That's because my phone doesn't connect to the internet. It's not what you'd call a "smart" phone. It's what you'd call a "flip" phone. (On the plus side, all I need is a tricorder and a phaser and I'll be ready for an away mission with Bones and Spock.)
*Take advanrage of the continental breakfast. There are times when I think they call it "continental" breakfast because half of the continent is trying to cram into the small room provided to get their "free" stale danishes and watered-down apple juice. It's amazing that, for a motel with over 300 rooms, they provide eight tables for breakfast, three of which will actually seat more than two people. Sometimes they market it as a "warm" continental breakfast, then provide a waffle maker. That's all good and well, but usually there are 11 people in line for the waffle maker, three of whom actually know how to use it. (I should mention that we recently stayed at a motel with a "warm" continental breakfast that provided a bowl full of bacon! Yes, a bowl full of bacon! (Or was it a bowlful of bacon?) Unlimited bacon!!! Needless to say, I will be staying at that motel the next time I am in that town. Or anywhere near that town.)
* Have fun at the pool! The swimming pool is a nice relaxing diversion at the motel. The kids can splash out some of that pent up energy from the long ride. And the adults can take a nice soak in the whirlpool. If they can get to it. There always seems to be that one group of people who seems to think the whirlpool (or hot tub, or spa) is their own private club, and they monopolize it. I've found that one of the best ways to clear out the whirlpool is to bring your two-year-old over, talk loudly about how he "hasn't pooped all day," then dip his toes in, with the threat of putting his whole body into the pool. The whirlpool hoarders will usually get out and find another place to loiter.
*If you go to the beach, you might get wet. And, there will be sand. Seems pretty obvious, doesn't it. But, having lived my whole life in land-locked Idaho and Utah, I was stupid enough to wear jeans and tennis shoes to the beach. Needless to say, I got wet. And, there was sand. (Lots and lots of sand.)
And here's a couple of Disneyland-specific tips:
*Bring lots of ice and water. As the day goes on, you will get thirsty. Fortunately, Disneyland provides lots and lots of water fountains. Unfortunately, all Disneyland water fountains have two problems: 1) high temperature, and B) low volume. I don't know about you, but when I go to get a drink from a water fountain, I like the water to be cold, or at least cold-ish. Also, no one wants to have to bend down so far that their lips have to touch the actual fountain in order to get to the water. Who knows whose lips have touched that fountain before? Why would all of Disneyland's water fountains be so high temperature/low volume? It wouldn't be that they want to sell those $4 bottles of water, would it? So, bring plenty of ice and water. (Or, if you are Mr. Moneybags, just fork out the big bucks for the bottles.)
*Eat plenty of churros. At Disneyland, there are churro carts around every corner. In the real world, there are not churro carts around every corner. There should be. The world would be a better place if there were churro carts around every corner. So, when you are at Disneyland, enjoy the churro flow while you have access to it.
In the end, the vacation was definitely worth it. We survived the drive down, we had lots and lots of fun, and we survived the drive back! But, it's good to be back. It's nice to be at my own home, where there isn't a line for the waffle machine and I have easy access to all the "cute kitty photos with bad grammar captions" that I could possibly want.
Thursday, August 30, 2012
So, You DON'T Want Me To Listen To Your Radio Station?
Ah, radio...it's the newspaper of the airwaves. (And no, that's not a compliment. I can only remember perusing through a newspaper once in the last year or two, and that was in a motel lobby while waiting for the rest of my family to wake up.) (And this is coming from a guy who basically got his college degree in newspaper writing.) (Which is why I drive truck for a living.)
Newspapers are going the way of the dodo. (I'm talking about the "extinct bird" use of the word "dodo," not the "stupid people" use of the word "dodo.") And radio may not be far behind.
With iPods and iPads and iTunes and Spotify and Pandora and Sirius and computers and the internets and smart phones and even phones of average intelligence, people have a wide variety of places to get their music and information besides traditional radio stations. Even ancient technology like the 6-CD changer has driven folks away from the radio. (I remember when I moved up from cassette deck to 6-CD changer almost six years ago! It was a glorious and wonderful thing!) Now, more than ever, radio stations need to do things to keep people listening to them, and yet they continue to do the same stupid things that make people want to change the station or turn it off completely.
I still listen to the radio (I am an old guy, after all), but I only listen to it four days a week. I usually listen to sports talk radio on my way to and from work. And then, when I'm at work, I flip between three or four music stations. When I'm not at work I don't listen to the radio at all because I have an iPod and a computer and, who am I kidding? I've got two kids under the age of five, so I spend much of my days watching PBS Kids and Disney, and playing with dolls and trucks.
With their fragmented and dwindling listenership, it's amazing that radio stations continue to do the annoying things that drive people away. I call these the "So, you don't want me to listen to your radio station" moments. One of the best things about car radios is the station preset buttons. So, when a station pulls out one of its "So, you don't want me to listen" moments, I can quickly push a button and I'm magically transported to another station. Until that station drives me away and I'm forced to hit another button. It's a never ending cycle.
Here are some of my (least) favorite "So, you don't want me to listen to your radio station" moments:
*The Radio Remote. This is when the radio station sends its DJs out on location at one of its advertiser's places of business, often a car dealership. The station then inundates its airwaves with pleas to visit the location instead of actually playing music. (And, by the way, you don't want to actually visit these locations, because you most certainly do not want to see your favorite radio personality. There is a reason these people are on the radio and not the television.) (They ain't pretty.)
*"Let's go to the callers." I'm usually okay with listening to professional radio personalities because they are actually professionals. It's what they get paid to do. I do not want to listen to the idiotic ramblings of some buffoon who thinks the world needs to hear what he has to say because he's witty or clever. Just because you can dial a phone doesn't mean I want to hear your opinion. Besides, when they go to "Bart from Ogden," any or all of the following things can happen: a) Bart has already hung up, leaving the DJ saying, "Bart? Bart? We seem to have lost Bart." b) Bart has his radio too loud, leading to annoying feedback. c) Bart is on speakerphone, so he sounds like he's calling from inside a tuna fish can. d) Bart has absolutely nothing of importance or interest to say, because he has nothing better to do than sit around all day and call radio stations.
*DJs singing over the music. In much the same way that I don't want to hear non-professional talkers talking on the radio, I also don't want to hear non-professional singers singing on the radio. Remember, you're a disc jockey, not Rick Astley. (Unless Rick Astley is now working as a DJ. In that case, I'd gladly listen to him singing over the songs.)
*DJs talking over the music. I know DJs are trained to talk over a song right up to the start of the singing, but sometimes the intro music is the best part of the song. I would much rather hear the jarring guitar at the beginning of "Just What I Needed" by the Cars, or the "Hey!" and hand-claps at the start of "What I Like About You" by the Romantics than any ramblings about traffic or the weather by some random DJ. Let the music play.
*Loud laughing "zoo crews." Radio stations often have a "zoo crew" for their morning shows consisting of two, three, four, or even five people. The problem is, all these people think they are so funny that they spend all their time laughing so loudly at each other that you can't hear or understand what they are laughing about. Unfortunately, this phenomenon isn't limited to morning zoo crews. Late night sports guys get this way, too. (I'm talking to you, Fox Sports Radio.)
*The "We don't talk" syndrome. Some stations promise things like "One hour of uniterrupted music!" Then, between every song, they interrupt the music to tell you that you are in the middle of "one hour of uniterrupted music!" Self-promotion is still advertising. I don't want to hear you talk about how little you talk!
*Chopping up the songs. If you bill yourself as a "classic" rock station but still play the chopped-up, hacked-up, shortened-for-time versions of great songs like "Piano Man" by Billy Joel or "Come Sail Away" by Styx, well, you have earned yourself my disdain and scorn. (And a good scowl, too.)
*Annoying advertising. Everyone has ads that drive them crazy. Here in the Utah area, there is one ad campaign that has been running for several years that forces me to turn the station whenever it airs. It is for a heating/air conditioning company, and features a superhero spokesman and his talking dog sidekick. The ads themselves are seldom about the company, but more often about the supposed fame and ego of the superhero and his talking dog. The person doing the voices for the superhero and the dog does so in a "funny," over-exaggerated way. (And by "funny" I mean funny's cousin, "Not Funny.") I'm guessing the ads are effective, because they've been running them for so long. But, I also know that if I had heating or air conditioning problems, that is the very last business I would go to. (I've sometimes wondered if I had a business and was looking to advertise if I could request to make sure my ad did not follow a certain other ad. "Yes, I'll advertise on your station, but only if my ads don't air in the fifteen minutes following an Action Man and Action Dog commercial.")
*"Don't touch that dial!" Any advertisement that demands that I don't change the station pretty much guarantees that I'm going to change the station. It's like a double-dog dare.
*Siren commercials. I find any commercial featuring a blaring siren to go beyond annoying into the realm of being irresponsible. When I hear a siren in a commercial, my first instinct is to pull over to let the emergency vehicle go by. How many times do people not pull over for actual sirens because they think it's a stupid radio commercial?
*Playing songs I don't like. Here's where I'm going to get into trouble. I'm going to offend someone by listing a song that they love as one that I hate. But it's all so subjective. A while back a writer on Grantland.com said he had pretty much dismissed all of Billy Joel's work because he didn't like the fact that he rhymed "Davy" with "Navy." (What was he supposed to rhyme it with? Gravy?) (On second thought, that would be pretty cool! "He's talking with Davy who likes to eat gravy.") The point is, we all come up with reasons, sometimes ridiculous, sometimes credible, as to why we hate songs. Here are a few that make me immediately turn the station:
"Run To You" by Bryan Adams. It's a cheating song. I don't like cheating songs. (See also "Tempted" by Squeeze and pretty much all non-"Ghostbusters" songs by Ray Parker, Jr.)
"Whole Lotta Love" by Led Zeppelin. Because if I want to hear Robert Plant having sex, I'd.... (I decided to not finish that sentence, because I will never want to hear Robert Plant having sex.)
"Cocaine" by Eric Clapton. I'd prefer my rock and roll songs about drugs to be a little more subtle. (I used to like "Dream On" by Aerosmith until I "cracked" the cocaine-use code on the whole "lines in the mirror" lyrics.)
"Layla" by Eric Clapton. I really don't have anything against Clapton. I like many of his songs. But I just don't like the way the ending repeats itself and drags on seemingly forever. (And yet I like those same qualities about "Hey Jude." Like I said, it's all subjective.)
All songs by Madonna, with the exception of "La Isla Bonita." Why do I like "La Isla Bonita?" Because the title is one of the funnest things to say in an Arnold Schwarzenegger voice. (You are trying it right now, aren't you?)
Any song by Aerosmith, with the exceptions of "Come Together," which is a great song no matter who sings it; "Love In an Elevator," because it reminds me of something (No, not that! Get your mind out of the gutter!); and "Dude Looks Like a Lady," just because occasionally it is fun to hear someone scream "Cow-cow-cow-chikka-chikka-chikka-cow-cow!!!"
"Imagine" by John Lennon. I know this one is going to get me in trouble with a lot of people. There are many who think this is the best rock song of all time. But, I don't like the song's anti-religion, anti-government stance. I like to call this song "The Anarchy Song," and imagine further lyrics, if they were to exist, to say things like, "imagine there's no traffic lights," or "imagine there's no guard rails." (I know I'm in the minority here. Oh well.)
"Man, I Feel Like a Woman" by Shania Twain and "I'm Just a Girl" by No Doubt. It's not because these aren't catchy, fun songs. It's because they are catchy fun songs. They get stuck in my head, and then I get singing them at inopportune times.
There are many other songs that make me want to change the radio station. And there are probably other annoying things radio stations and DJs do that make me want to change the station. What about you? Are there songs or other things that make YOU immediately turn the station? I'd really like to have some feedback, either at the bottom of the page here, or on Facebook.
(And yes, I realize I just pulled a "Let's Go To the Callers," but I figure if you don't like it, the worst you can do is switch to another humor column.)
Newspapers are going the way of the dodo. (I'm talking about the "extinct bird" use of the word "dodo," not the "stupid people" use of the word "dodo.") And radio may not be far behind.
With iPods and iPads and iTunes and Spotify and Pandora and Sirius and computers and the internets and smart phones and even phones of average intelligence, people have a wide variety of places to get their music and information besides traditional radio stations. Even ancient technology like the 6-CD changer has driven folks away from the radio. (I remember when I moved up from cassette deck to 6-CD changer almost six years ago! It was a glorious and wonderful thing!) Now, more than ever, radio stations need to do things to keep people listening to them, and yet they continue to do the same stupid things that make people want to change the station or turn it off completely.
I still listen to the radio (I am an old guy, after all), but I only listen to it four days a week. I usually listen to sports talk radio on my way to and from work. And then, when I'm at work, I flip between three or four music stations. When I'm not at work I don't listen to the radio at all because I have an iPod and a computer and, who am I kidding? I've got two kids under the age of five, so I spend much of my days watching PBS Kids and Disney, and playing with dolls and trucks.
With their fragmented and dwindling listenership, it's amazing that radio stations continue to do the annoying things that drive people away. I call these the "So, you don't want me to listen to your radio station" moments. One of the best things about car radios is the station preset buttons. So, when a station pulls out one of its "So, you don't want me to listen" moments, I can quickly push a button and I'm magically transported to another station. Until that station drives me away and I'm forced to hit another button. It's a never ending cycle.
Here are some of my (least) favorite "So, you don't want me to listen to your radio station" moments:
*The Radio Remote. This is when the radio station sends its DJs out on location at one of its advertiser's places of business, often a car dealership. The station then inundates its airwaves with pleas to visit the location instead of actually playing music. (And, by the way, you don't want to actually visit these locations, because you most certainly do not want to see your favorite radio personality. There is a reason these people are on the radio and not the television.) (They ain't pretty.)
*"Let's go to the callers." I'm usually okay with listening to professional radio personalities because they are actually professionals. It's what they get paid to do. I do not want to listen to the idiotic ramblings of some buffoon who thinks the world needs to hear what he has to say because he's witty or clever. Just because you can dial a phone doesn't mean I want to hear your opinion. Besides, when they go to "Bart from Ogden," any or all of the following things can happen: a) Bart has already hung up, leaving the DJ saying, "Bart? Bart? We seem to have lost Bart." b) Bart has his radio too loud, leading to annoying feedback. c) Bart is on speakerphone, so he sounds like he's calling from inside a tuna fish can. d) Bart has absolutely nothing of importance or interest to say, because he has nothing better to do than sit around all day and call radio stations.
*DJs singing over the music. In much the same way that I don't want to hear non-professional talkers talking on the radio, I also don't want to hear non-professional singers singing on the radio. Remember, you're a disc jockey, not Rick Astley. (Unless Rick Astley is now working as a DJ. In that case, I'd gladly listen to him singing over the songs.)
*DJs talking over the music. I know DJs are trained to talk over a song right up to the start of the singing, but sometimes the intro music is the best part of the song. I would much rather hear the jarring guitar at the beginning of "Just What I Needed" by the Cars, or the "Hey!" and hand-claps at the start of "What I Like About You" by the Romantics than any ramblings about traffic or the weather by some random DJ. Let the music play.
*Loud laughing "zoo crews." Radio stations often have a "zoo crew" for their morning shows consisting of two, three, four, or even five people. The problem is, all these people think they are so funny that they spend all their time laughing so loudly at each other that you can't hear or understand what they are laughing about. Unfortunately, this phenomenon isn't limited to morning zoo crews. Late night sports guys get this way, too. (I'm talking to you, Fox Sports Radio.)
*The "We don't talk" syndrome. Some stations promise things like "One hour of uniterrupted music!" Then, between every song, they interrupt the music to tell you that you are in the middle of "one hour of uniterrupted music!" Self-promotion is still advertising. I don't want to hear you talk about how little you talk!
*Chopping up the songs. If you bill yourself as a "classic" rock station but still play the chopped-up, hacked-up, shortened-for-time versions of great songs like "Piano Man" by Billy Joel or "Come Sail Away" by Styx, well, you have earned yourself my disdain and scorn. (And a good scowl, too.)
*Annoying advertising. Everyone has ads that drive them crazy. Here in the Utah area, there is one ad campaign that has been running for several years that forces me to turn the station whenever it airs. It is for a heating/air conditioning company, and features a superhero spokesman and his talking dog sidekick. The ads themselves are seldom about the company, but more often about the supposed fame and ego of the superhero and his talking dog. The person doing the voices for the superhero and the dog does so in a "funny," over-exaggerated way. (And by "funny" I mean funny's cousin, "Not Funny.") I'm guessing the ads are effective, because they've been running them for so long. But, I also know that if I had heating or air conditioning problems, that is the very last business I would go to. (I've sometimes wondered if I had a business and was looking to advertise if I could request to make sure my ad did not follow a certain other ad. "Yes, I'll advertise on your station, but only if my ads don't air in the fifteen minutes following an Action Man and Action Dog commercial.")
*"Don't touch that dial!" Any advertisement that demands that I don't change the station pretty much guarantees that I'm going to change the station. It's like a double-dog dare.
*Siren commercials. I find any commercial featuring a blaring siren to go beyond annoying into the realm of being irresponsible. When I hear a siren in a commercial, my first instinct is to pull over to let the emergency vehicle go by. How many times do people not pull over for actual sirens because they think it's a stupid radio commercial?
*Playing songs I don't like. Here's where I'm going to get into trouble. I'm going to offend someone by listing a song that they love as one that I hate. But it's all so subjective. A while back a writer on Grantland.com said he had pretty much dismissed all of Billy Joel's work because he didn't like the fact that he rhymed "Davy" with "Navy." (What was he supposed to rhyme it with? Gravy?) (On second thought, that would be pretty cool! "He's talking with Davy who likes to eat gravy.") The point is, we all come up with reasons, sometimes ridiculous, sometimes credible, as to why we hate songs. Here are a few that make me immediately turn the station:
"Run To You" by Bryan Adams. It's a cheating song. I don't like cheating songs. (See also "Tempted" by Squeeze and pretty much all non-"Ghostbusters" songs by Ray Parker, Jr.)
"Whole Lotta Love" by Led Zeppelin. Because if I want to hear Robert Plant having sex, I'd.... (I decided to not finish that sentence, because I will never want to hear Robert Plant having sex.)
"Cocaine" by Eric Clapton. I'd prefer my rock and roll songs about drugs to be a little more subtle. (I used to like "Dream On" by Aerosmith until I "cracked" the cocaine-use code on the whole "lines in the mirror" lyrics.)
"Layla" by Eric Clapton. I really don't have anything against Clapton. I like many of his songs. But I just don't like the way the ending repeats itself and drags on seemingly forever. (And yet I like those same qualities about "Hey Jude." Like I said, it's all subjective.)
All songs by Madonna, with the exception of "La Isla Bonita." Why do I like "La Isla Bonita?" Because the title is one of the funnest things to say in an Arnold Schwarzenegger voice. (You are trying it right now, aren't you?)
Any song by Aerosmith, with the exceptions of "Come Together," which is a great song no matter who sings it; "Love In an Elevator," because it reminds me of something (No, not that! Get your mind out of the gutter!); and "Dude Looks Like a Lady," just because occasionally it is fun to hear someone scream "Cow-cow-cow-chikka-chikka-chikka-cow-cow!!!"
"Imagine" by John Lennon. I know this one is going to get me in trouble with a lot of people. There are many who think this is the best rock song of all time. But, I don't like the song's anti-religion, anti-government stance. I like to call this song "The Anarchy Song," and imagine further lyrics, if they were to exist, to say things like, "imagine there's no traffic lights," or "imagine there's no guard rails." (I know I'm in the minority here. Oh well.)
"Man, I Feel Like a Woman" by Shania Twain and "I'm Just a Girl" by No Doubt. It's not because these aren't catchy, fun songs. It's because they are catchy fun songs. They get stuck in my head, and then I get singing them at inopportune times.
There are many other songs that make me want to change the radio station. And there are probably other annoying things radio stations and DJs do that make me want to change the station. What about you? Are there songs or other things that make YOU immediately turn the station? I'd really like to have some feedback, either at the bottom of the page here, or on Facebook.
(And yes, I realize I just pulled a "Let's Go To the Callers," but I figure if you don't like it, the worst you can do is switch to another humor column.)
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Me and My Sister Wives
Yes, I am a Mormon. Yes, I live in Utah. But no, I do not have more than one wife.
It just seems that way.
The Mormon church quit practicing polygamy a long time ago. (1890, to be exact.) That's over 120 years ago. And yet, when some people hear the word "Mormon," they feel compelled to say, "So, how many wives you got?" (And then they stand there with a smug look on their face like they just uttered the funniest sentence in the history of the human race.) (They didn't.) (I'm not sure what the funniest sentence uttered in the history of the human race is, but I'm pretty sure it involves the word "poop.") (Or maybe "horticulture.")
As Mormons, we try to educate the world that we are normal-ish, one-wife-loving people. The 2002 Winter Olympics were a great opportunity to get that message out. There are occasionally profiles about the church on television shows like 60 Minutes, or magazines like Time or Newsweek. Or sometimes we'll trot out Steve Young as our example of Mormonhood. (Isn't it sad that we're still using Steve Young for this? He retired over 12 years ago, after the 1999 season. Shouldn't we have had another talented, handsome BYU quarterback to hold up as an example by now? John Beck and Max Hall, you've really dropped the ball!) (Often literally.)
But, every time we make some progress along those lines, Hollywood comes along and puts out a show like Big Love or Sister Wives. (Yes, I'm blaming Hollywood for all of our problems.) (That last parenthetical notation was sarcasm, by the way.) (Hollywood is really responsible for only 64% of our problems.)
I've never seen any episodes of Big Love because I am too cheap to pay for HBO, Showtime, or whatever station used to air that show. And, despite what my DVR might tell you, I haven't seen more than three minutes of Sister Wives. My wife, her mother, and her sisters all like to watch that show. If I walk into the room and it is on, I'll find myself something more entertaining to do, like maybe the dishes.
They say they like Sister Wives for the "train wreck" aspect of it. Me, if I want to see a train wreck, I'll watch an actual train wreck. Or a Minnesota Vikings playoff game.
Personally, I can't fathom being married to more than one woman. It took me forever to find one woman crazy enough to marry me, let alone several. And yet, sometimes it seems like I have several wives.
A couple of weeks ago I took my family to the zoo. It ended up looking like a trip with a polygamist clan. Besides me, there was my wife and two kids; my wife's sister and her two kids (her husband is in the army and is currently deployed); my wife's sister's friend and two of her kids (separated from her husband); my wife's mother (her husband at work); and my wife's mother's friend (her husband at work.)
So, for those of you counting at home, that's one man, five women, and six kids. My very own "Sister Wives" troop! (And, for those of you wondering about the generation gap, because of the "scandalous" age difference between my wife and I, I'm actually slightly closer in age to her mother than to my wife, so the whole thing is somewhat feasible.)
I find myself in these "Sister Wife" situations frequently. Partly because of my work schedule. (I work two day shifts and two evening shifts per week, giving me either five days or five evenings a week to go out with my troop.) And partly because my wife's family is so female-centric. (She is one of three sisters, with no brothers. The only man in the family, her father, works a standard five-day work week, and is often busy on the weekends doing volunteer communications work for local search and rescue.)
The funny thing is, the zoo trip didn't include probably my most frequent "Sister Wife," my wife's other sister, the single one who lives in our basement apartment. Other occasional members of my clan include my wife's aunt, when she visits from New York; my sister, when she visits from Idaho; and my adult niece when she visits from Washington.
Do I like being surrounded by attractive, intelligent women? Of course I do! Would I want to be married to them all? Oh heck no!!! One wife is a-plenty for me!
Because there are so many women in my life, I often find myself in very feminine-istic situations. The other day I went with some of them to a place where we painted ceramics. Yes, I was painting ceramics. Even tonight my wife and one of her sisters are upstairs playing Barbies with their daughters. I had to take Buzz and escape downstairs to finish this column and maintain a little hint of my masculinity.
My "Sister Wives" are great and all, but there are times when I wish I had some more "Bro Dudes" to hang out with to watch some games and belch and fart with. Who knows, maybe the Vikings will make the playoffs this year so me and my "Bro Dudes" could watch a train wreck of our very own.
It just seems that way.
The Mormon church quit practicing polygamy a long time ago. (1890, to be exact.) That's over 120 years ago. And yet, when some people hear the word "Mormon," they feel compelled to say, "So, how many wives you got?" (And then they stand there with a smug look on their face like they just uttered the funniest sentence in the history of the human race.) (They didn't.) (I'm not sure what the funniest sentence uttered in the history of the human race is, but I'm pretty sure it involves the word "poop.") (Or maybe "horticulture.")
As Mormons, we try to educate the world that we are normal-ish, one-wife-loving people. The 2002 Winter Olympics were a great opportunity to get that message out. There are occasionally profiles about the church on television shows like 60 Minutes, or magazines like Time or Newsweek. Or sometimes we'll trot out Steve Young as our example of Mormonhood. (Isn't it sad that we're still using Steve Young for this? He retired over 12 years ago, after the 1999 season. Shouldn't we have had another talented, handsome BYU quarterback to hold up as an example by now? John Beck and Max Hall, you've really dropped the ball!) (Often literally.)
But, every time we make some progress along those lines, Hollywood comes along and puts out a show like Big Love or Sister Wives. (Yes, I'm blaming Hollywood for all of our problems.) (That last parenthetical notation was sarcasm, by the way.) (Hollywood is really responsible for only 64% of our problems.)
I've never seen any episodes of Big Love because I am too cheap to pay for HBO, Showtime, or whatever station used to air that show. And, despite what my DVR might tell you, I haven't seen more than three minutes of Sister Wives. My wife, her mother, and her sisters all like to watch that show. If I walk into the room and it is on, I'll find myself something more entertaining to do, like maybe the dishes.
They say they like Sister Wives for the "train wreck" aspect of it. Me, if I want to see a train wreck, I'll watch an actual train wreck. Or a Minnesota Vikings playoff game.
Personally, I can't fathom being married to more than one woman. It took me forever to find one woman crazy enough to marry me, let alone several. And yet, sometimes it seems like I have several wives.
A couple of weeks ago I took my family to the zoo. It ended up looking like a trip with a polygamist clan. Besides me, there was my wife and two kids; my wife's sister and her two kids (her husband is in the army and is currently deployed); my wife's sister's friend and two of her kids (separated from her husband); my wife's mother (her husband at work); and my wife's mother's friend (her husband at work.)
So, for those of you counting at home, that's one man, five women, and six kids. My very own "Sister Wives" troop! (And, for those of you wondering about the generation gap, because of the "scandalous" age difference between my wife and I, I'm actually slightly closer in age to her mother than to my wife, so the whole thing is somewhat feasible.)
I find myself in these "Sister Wife" situations frequently. Partly because of my work schedule. (I work two day shifts and two evening shifts per week, giving me either five days or five evenings a week to go out with my troop.) And partly because my wife's family is so female-centric. (She is one of three sisters, with no brothers. The only man in the family, her father, works a standard five-day work week, and is often busy on the weekends doing volunteer communications work for local search and rescue.)
The funny thing is, the zoo trip didn't include probably my most frequent "Sister Wife," my wife's other sister, the single one who lives in our basement apartment. Other occasional members of my clan include my wife's aunt, when she visits from New York; my sister, when she visits from Idaho; and my adult niece when she visits from Washington.
Do I like being surrounded by attractive, intelligent women? Of course I do! Would I want to be married to them all? Oh heck no!!! One wife is a-plenty for me!
Because there are so many women in my life, I often find myself in very feminine-istic situations. The other day I went with some of them to a place where we painted ceramics. Yes, I was painting ceramics. Even tonight my wife and one of her sisters are upstairs playing Barbies with their daughters. I had to take Buzz and escape downstairs to finish this column and maintain a little hint of my masculinity.
My "Sister Wives" are great and all, but there are times when I wish I had some more "Bro Dudes" to hang out with to watch some games and belch and fart with. Who knows, maybe the Vikings will make the playoffs this year so me and my "Bro Dudes" could watch a train wreck of our very own.
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