10 Simple Rules All Kids Should Know (But You'll Probably Have to Tell them Anyway)

There are some things that every adult knows, and every kid should know. We forget, though, that kids are young and don't have a lot of life experience. So, it turns out we actually do have to tell them these things.

The simplest of rules, such as:

1. Don't pick your nose.
And if you do have to do some excavating up in there, make sure you have a tissue.

2. Don't pick anyone else's nose.
It doesn't matter if you have a tissue or not, just don't do it! Exception: If you are a parent and the nose we are talking about belongs to one of your kids. If so, dig away! (But only as needed.)

3. Don't eat boogers!
I don't want to know what it tastes like. I don't care what it tastes like. No one wants to see it. Keep those boogers out of your mouth!

Disclaimer: No boogers were eaten during the taking of this photograph. 

4. If it's not food, don't put it in your mouth.
This applies to fingers, thumbs, pencils, pens, toys, blankets, any and all parts of the cat, and, most importantly of all, boogers!

5. You have to put your socks on before you put on your shoes.
They say there's an exception to every rule. I'm having a hard time finding one here.

6. Don't put on your shoes before you put on your pants.
I came across this just the other day. The Boy (my five year old) was getting ready for church, sitting on the floor of his room in his underwear, socks, and shoes, trying to figure out how to get on his pants. He wasn't having much luck.

7. You have to take your socks off before getting in the tub.
If you don't, your socks will get wet. And your feet won't get clean.

8. Don't pee in the tub.
This rule is mainly for when the kid is taking a bath. When The Boy was little it was about as regular as clockwork: I would put The Boy in the tub, then there would be a little fountain. (When she gets a little older his big sister will be appalled to learn that, because her turn in the bath was after his, she almost always bathed in special "little brother"water.)

Of course, this rule also applies for when someone is not taking a bath. Just because all forms of liquid can go down the drain doesn't mean they should go down the drain.

There is a difference between a tub and a toilet!

9. Don't poop in the tub.
Obviously, this rule goes hand in hand with Rule #8. (And The Girl needn't worry. If this rule was broken, we would stop and drain the water. And clean the tub. Poop is more serious than pee.)

10. Don't drink the tub water.
Tub water is warm. Tub water is soapy. And, because Rule #8 wasn't always observed, tub water could be contaminated with urine. And yet for kids, it is very enticing to take a glug or two of the tub water. I have never understood this.

And, special extra bonus rule: Don't keep your boogers as souvenirs!
No one wants to see your booger collection! No one!!!

I'm Frozen Over (But Not Yet Over "Frozen")

The Walt Disney Company has released a lot of movies over the years. Some good, some bad. Some memorable, some forgettable. And some inescapable.

On November 27, 2013, Walt Disney released a little animated movie called Frozen. At the time, I had no idea how much it would dominate my life.

Frozen: Perhaps you've heard of it?

It started out innocently enough. We thought we'd take the kids to a movie over Christmas break. Frozen had been out for a few weeks, and it had received mostly good reviews. And since The Wolf of Wall Street and Anchorman 2 didn't seem very appropriate for children, we chose to take our kids to Frozen.

The kids seemed to enjoy the movie. The Girl (who was 5 years old at the time) liked the songs and all the princessy stuff, and The Boy (who was 3 year old) liked the snowman and the reindeer. But, they didn't seem to like it significantly more than other movies we had watched with them in the previous few months, like Despicable Me 2 and Monsters University. They seemed to like Frozen about the same as they liked all kid movies.

It wasn't until Spring of 2014 that it started to take over our lives. The Girl and The Boy both have birthdays in the spring, and so for their birthdays one of them got the soundtrack to Despicable Me and the other got the soundtrack to Frozen. Both cds got put into the six-cd stereo in the mini-van. It was immediately clear which of the two soundtracks they preferred.

Over the course of the next several months the soundtrack of Frozen was played through the speakers of the min-van stereo dozens, or possibly hundreds, or possibly thousands, or possibly millions of times. Almost any time we went anywhere we listened to Frozen. And it wasn't just the main soundtrack, either. We also listened to Disc 2 of the soundtrack, which featured songs that were written for the movie but didn't make the cut. (Featuring the comedic stylings of Nils Norberg.)

The stereo in the mini-van playing "Frozen Heart" for the  1,000,017th time.

It was during this time that the songs became ingrained in my head. I couldn't go anywhere without thinking about finishing "each other's sandwiches," or being a "happy snowman."

I found the songs seeping into my everyday conversation. The song "Do You Want To Build a Snowman" became a musical template for any time I asked almost any question. I would sing, "Do you want to have some ice cream?" or "Do you want to put your shoes on?" or "Do you want to go to Costco?" or "Do you want to watch The Good Wife?" of "Do you want to cut your toenails?" or, one time at work when a truck driver offered to sell me some questionable oysters I spent the whole evening singing, "Do you want to buy some oysters?" [For more on the night a truck driver tried to sell me questionable oysters out of the back of his truck, see: Do You Want to Buy Some Oysters?]

That's not the only song that took over my brain, though. When playing basketball, and the ball was going out of bounds off of someone from the opposing team, I would find myself singing to my teammates, "Let it go, let it go!"

And then there's the song "Reindeers are Better Than People." I find myself singing it whenever I compare two different things. Like, "French toast is better than pancakes," or "Fry sauce is better than ketchup," or "Tacos are better than Corn Flakes," or "Vikings are better than Cowboys."

I find myself wishing I had "10,000 salad plates" and that I could talk to "actual, real live people."

Yes, the songs from the Frozen soundtrack have pummeled themselves deep inside my brain. But, it didn't stop there.

Later in the summer, we bought a new car. (A used car, new to us.) It was a white Ford Taurus. I have a habit of giving names to my cars, so I was trying to think of a good name for this new car. Since a Taurus is a bull, I was thinking to name the car after someone from the Chicago Bulls. But, since I am a fan of the Utah Jazz, I was having a hard time thinking of a Chicago Bull I would want to name my car after. I was leaning toward naming the car "Sloan," after former Jazz coach and Bull player Jerry Sloan. The Wife wasn't particularly fond of that name, so she asked the kids what we should name the car. Since the car is white, they immediately decided to name it "Olaf," after the snowman from Frozen. Of course, that is the name that stuck. (Which is probably for the best, because Olaf is a much better name for a car than Sloan.)

Olaf the kite, leaning against Olaf the car.

And then I thought it was winding down. As the year turned into fall, the requests to listen to Frozen in the van became less frequent. (Only four times a week instead of ten times a week.) I really thought that the Frozen fascination would continue to wane until it got to the point where I might actually go a whole day without hearing the names "Elsa," "Anna," "Olaf," or "Sven."

I was wrong.

I forgot about Christmas. I forgot about Christmas and the Walt Disney Mighty Merchandising Machine!

For Christmas 2013 the movie was brand new, and they had no idea how BIG of a hit it was going to be. So, yes, they had some Frozen merchandise to sell, but on a relatively small scale. But by the time Christmas of 2014 rolled around, they had had a full year to produce, promote and propagate any and every possible Frozen product you could think of, and even some you couldn't!

When I hear the term "frozen underwear," I think of someone out in blizzard conditions whose underwear has literally frozen. Nope. Our kids got Frozen underwear. Frozen socks. Frozen shoes. Frozen shirts. Frozen bicycle helmets. Frozen pillow cases. Frozen pajamas. Frozen toothpaste. Frozen toothbrushes. Frozen vegetables! (Okay, so I made that last one up. For now. It wouldn't surprise me if Disney scientists are working on creating Elsa-shaped asparagus as we speak!)

Frozen shirts!

Another Frozen shirt! (I decided not to take pictures of my kids' Frozen underwear.)

Our main gift as a family for Christmas was a karaoke machine. Of course, the first karaoke cd we got to play in the machine was the Frozen soundtrack karaoke sing-along-athon!!! (Weren't all those months of singing along to the soundtrack in the mini-van enough? Apparently not.)

Please, sing along with songs you've already heard 1,000,019 times!

And, if that wasn't enough, we also have the Frozen sheet music, so we can play-along as well as sing-along!

Eventually we made it through our Frozen Christmas. So we were finally finished, right? Wrong! The Walt Disney Mighty Merchandising Machine was just getting started! For their birthdays in the spring the kids got Frozen sheets, and Frozen wall stickers, and Frozen drinking cups, and Frozen napkins, and Frozen paper plates, and Frozen jumper cables. (Okay, I made up that last one again. For now.)

Sheets, pillow case, wall stickers, stuffed toys, etc….

Drink not from the Frozen cup.

And it's not over yet. I'm sure more is still coming. Just the other day in the store I saw some Frozen yogurt. It was a bit confusing, though, because the Frozen yogurt wasn't actually frozen yogurt. It was just regular yogurt with characters from the movie Frozen on the packaging. Although, if I had checked the ice cream section I might have come across some Frozen frozen yogurt as well. (Or would that be frozen Frozen yogurt? It's all very confusing.)

Also available: Frozen soup. Although it is not frozen soup, just Frozen soup. (I think.)
(And if you heat up Frozen soup, is it still Frozen?)

It also wouldn't surprise me to see Disney buy Lambeau Field in Green Bay where the Packers play. It's been referred to as the "frozen tundra" for decades, why not put Elsa and Anna on the sidelines and make it the "Frozen tundra?"

The kids are even finding Frozen things where Frozen doesn't exist. A while back I was listening to a minor hit from the 1980s called "On a Carousel" by a group called Glass Moon. (It was a remake of a 60's song by The Hollies.) The kids liked the song, but as they sang along they changed the lyrics from "On a Carousel" to "Anna Carousel," and then eventually to "Elsa Carousel." Even songs from the 80s (or 60s) aren't safe from the Frozen phenomenon!

[And, just to be clear, my daughter is very particular on how to pronounce the name of the character "Anna" from the movie. If I try to pronounce it with a soft "a" sound, like "Ann-uh," I will be immediately and harshly corrected. It is pronounced "On-uh" or "Ah-nuh." Any time I try to pronounce it "Ann-uh" I get the frozen glare of death. (Which, thankfully, is not quite the same as the Frozen glare of death!)]

My fear is that this is just the beginning. I'm afraid that the Walt Disney Mighty Merchandising Machine is just getting started. It may not be long before every single product ever invented will have the likeness of Elsa or Anna or Olaf on it. Soon enough, it just might reach the breaking point.

My advice to the fine folks at Disney? You've done enough. You've made enough. It's time to give it a rest. Just let it go.

Let it go.

(At least until the sequel comes out.)

Slow Joe is a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for sites to earn advertising fees by advertising and linking to amazon.com. 

Size DOES Matter!

We've all heard the saying "size doesn't matter." Well, I completely disagree.

Especially when we're talking about hand towels.

We've all had it happen. You go to the bathroom, wash your hands, then dry your hands on the hand towel. Everything's fine. Until the next time you have to go to the bathroom. Once again you take care of your business, and then you wash your hands. But this time, when you go to dry your hands on the hand towel you find that the hand towel is still damp from the last time you dried your hands on it. It's hard to get your hands dry using a towel that's already wet.

Or, worse yet, you haven't been to the bathroom for hours, but it just so happens you have to go fifteen minutes after Uncle Stinky has gone. ("Uncle Stinky" is not his real name. But it probably should be.) You wash your hands and reach for the hand towel, but it is moist. Very moist indeed. You try to find a dry spot on the hand towel, but to no avail. And the worst part is, that's not your moistness on that towel. That's Uncle Stinky's moistness!

(Of course, if we're being honest here, the moistness level of the hand towel might be the least of your worries if you have to use the bathroom after Uncle Stinky. But that's a topic for another day.)

They call it a hand towel for a reason. It's barely big enough to dry your hand.

I understand the concept of the hand towel. It's just fine for drying your hands. Once. But, if you have to make several bathroom visits in a short amount of time (curse you, diarrhea!) or if you have multiple people using the same bathroom (and thus the same hand towel) in a short amount of time, the size of the hand towel really does matter.

Here's a standard size hand towel versus a standard size regular towel.
Yes, size does matter!

In my own bathroom, I've taken care of this problem. On my large towel rack I have two towels: 1) My very large bath towel; and B) My very large hand towel (which is the exact same size as my very large bath towel.) So, no matter how frequently I use my hand towel, I can always find a spot on it devoid of moistness so I can dry my hands with a dry towel.

Unfortunately, this doesn't work for all bathrooms, because most of the time hand towels have a wimpy little round towel-holder or towel rack too small to handle a large towel. If you try to put a regular size towel on one of these wimpy hand-towel holders, you'll get something like this:

The standard size towel on the wimpy hand-towel rack. The towel hangs down into the sink.

So, what is the solution? Well, it depends on the bathroom. But what I would do is have as many towel racks and towel hooks as possible in every bathroom, with a full-sized towel on every rack and hook.

Every towel you add increases the chances of finding one that's not damp.

Is it aesthetically pleasing? No. Is it practical? No. Does it look pretty stupid? Yes.

But sometimes you do whatever you can to avoid Uncle Stinky's Moistness!

Drive-Thru Creeper

I wasn't expecting a conversation at the first window.

It had been a hectic day, and I was rushing for lunch. I had planned on making a nice, healthy lunch for The Boy (my 5 year-old) and I. Probably some grilled salmon with asparagus and sliced pomegranate. (Or something.) Instead, our errands got out of hand and I found myself pulling up to the drive-thru ordering speaker of a local fast food establishment. (I don't want to shed a bad light on the place, so for the sake of anonymity I'll call it "McFastFood's.")

Most drive-thru conversations take place at the ordering speaker. And these aren't exactly "conversations," they're mostly recitations of familiar phrases like:
"Would you like any fries with that?"
"Can I super-size that for you?"
And, "Please pull forward to the first window."

I placed my order and was told to move ahead to the first window. (They didn't have grilled salmon, so I settled for a Filet o' Fish.) As I pulled around there was a car ahead of me at the first window. I waited my turn, then pulled up to the window.

I took out my credit card and reached it toward the window when the McFastFood's employee broke the unwritten rules of the Customer/Drive-thru Employee Interaction Contract: he said something that differed from the standard script.

As I reached my credit card toward him, he said, "Why is it that all the cute girls pay with a credit card?"

I was a bit befuddled. I was paying with a credit card. Did he think I was a cute girl? And if so, how offended should I be? Or how flattered should I be? (Because, if he thought I was a girl, at least he thought I was a cute girl.)

I wasn't sure how to respond, so I think I said something extremely insightful, like "Uhhh...."

He took my card to process it, then continued, "I wish they would pay with cash." I didn't respond, but I was a bit relieved. When he said "they" it meant that he wasn't lumping me in with the cute girls.

The conversation was pretty one-sided. He had something he wanted to say, and I was the one there for him to say it to. For my part, he had piqued my interest. I was a bit curious to see what exactly he was talking about.

As he processed my card, he went on. "When they pay with cash, I get to hold their hands a little bit when I give them their change. I just want the chance to hold a cute girl's hand. But I don't get to hold their hand when they pay with a credit card! I wish the cute girls didn't always pay with credit cards!"

Okay, that was a bit creepy.  It's like I was seeing a bad guy from an episode of Criminal Minds in his earliest stages: It started out with him holding hands with unwitting girls as he gave them change at the drive-thru, then before you knew it he was keeping girls locked up against their will in his shed out back.

I was just expecting to pay at the first window, not get a glimpse inside the mind of a serial killer.

Having finished telling me his woes, he handed me back my card. I felt like I should say something, so I shook my head and told him, "I don't know what to tell you, dude." (I don't often use the word "dude," but for some reason it seemed appropriate. For once, I was actually talking to someone who was more nerdy than me.)

I pulled forward to the second window, feeling fortunate to know that the Drive-Thru Creeper didn't have a hand in actually preparing my food.

Looking back now, I'm probably being a little hard on the Drive-Thru Creeper. He's probably just a lonely nerd who hasn't had much luck with the ladies. Believe me, I understand. Been there, done that.

But, there are better ways to meet women than grabbing at their hands while giving them change at the drive-thru window.

And as far as you cute girls are concerned, I'm not sure what to tell you. I'd say always pay with credit card so Drive-Thru Creeper can't fondle your hands when giving you change, but credit card fraud is always a danger, too. Maybe your best bet is to avoid the drive-thru altogether, stay home, and have some grilled salmon. (It's healthier, anyway.)

Having Fun Just Got Serious!

I like to write.

I like to make people laugh. (Or giggle.) (Or snicker.) (Or smirk.) (Or smile.) (Or maybe just shake their head in disbelief.) I have a lot of fun writing. I really enjoy it.

For most of my adult life, whenever anyone has asked questions like "What would you like to do for a living?" or "What do you want to do with your life?" or "If you could do anything, what would it be?" my answer would be, "I'd like to be a writer." (Or a shooting guard for the Utah Jazz. But I think the ship has sailed on that one.)

Well, guess what? That time is now. I am now, officially a writer!

You might ask, what exactly does that mean? Well, you've heard the expression "don't quit your day job?" Too late. Because I just did quit my day job! (And I've got to tell you, it felt pretty darn good to quit my day job!)(Pretty scary, too.)

Let me explain 'zactly how this happened.

I'd been working at the same job for a little over eight years. My job consisted mostly of driving semi-trailers around a parking lot all day. I backed in and pulled out trailers to be loaded and/or unloaded at a large frozen food manufacturing/warehouse facility. It wasn't a very complicated job. It wasn't a very gratifying job. It wasn't even a very well-paying job. It was just a job.

It was a job with a pretty lousy work schedule. On the plus side, I only worked four ten-hour shifts a week. On the negative side, those four ten-hour shifts were at some horrendous times of the day. I would work two days a week from 4:00 AM until 2:00 PM, and I would work two other days from 4:00 PM until 2:00 AM.

Wrap your head around that for a minute:
          Two days a week: At work at 4:00 AM (alarm goes off at 2:35 AM!)
                                        Off work at 2:00 PM.
          Two other days a week: At work at 4:00 PM
                                                 Off work at 2:00 AM (get home and go to bed around 3:00 AM!)

Whenever people would learn my work schedule, they would always ask, "How do you work that schedule? When do you sleep?" It was a valid question. Mostly, I would sleep whenever I was awake. Or, when I was supposed to be awake. Any time I would sit in a chair there was a good chance I would doze off.

After eight years of that schedule, I was pretty much a walking zombie.

So, after a few particularly crappy nights at work, The Wife was tired of seeing my zombification, and she came to me with an idea. She proposed that I quit my job and try my hand at writing full time. (We have just enough money in savings to let us give this a try for a limited amount of time.)

I was shocked, surprised, and very excited by The Wife's idea. (The Wife is awesome and fantastic, by the way. She is the bestest!!!) It's definitely one of those, "It's kind of crazy, but it just might work" ideas.

So, here I am. A writer.

A very serious writer.

I've been posting on this blog, at slowjoe40.blogspot.com for a few years now, writing about my life as a 40 year old virgin, and my life as a father of three. (And any other funny thing that might come to my slightly demented mind.) But, I've done so pretty sporadically. No more. I will now be posting a blog update twice a week, every Tuesday and every Friday. (I'm also going to be working on writing other things, including a book.)

If I'm doing my job right, you should like my writing. And if you like my writing, what I ask of you is to "like" my writing. "Share" it. Pass it on to others. I will be posting most everything I write at my Slow Joe 40 page on Facebook. The more likes and shares and followers that I can get, the less likely I'll have to go back to setting my alarm for 2:35 AM so I can drive trucks around a parking lot again.

I'm looking forward to this! This is going to be fun. Because having fun just got serious!!!

Sick and Tired

I am sick and tired of being sick and tired.

Don't you think they should make things easier for sick people? Yes, they should. But, they don't. They definitely don't. (Who are the "they" that I'm speaking of? I'm not really sure, but I think "they" know who "they" are.)

I'll tell you what I'm talking about. I got sick a couple of weeks ago. It was the usual cold symptoms: runny nose, cough, fatigue, sore throat, general feeling of "blah." So, I did what millions of Americans do when they get sick: I whined to my wife.

But then, it was time to do something about it. So, it was off to the store to get some cold medicine. My main go-to medicine when I get sick is DayQuil. Almost. Because I am a cheapskate, instead of purchasing DayQuil, I bought the store brand generic equivalent.

DayQuil (and its store brand generic equivalent) comes in two forms: pill or liquid. I buy the liquid. The Wife makes fun of me because I won't try the pill form, but have you seen the size of those things? They say "size doesn't matter," but I tend to disagree. Those pills are huge! I've already got a sore throat, and they want me to force that giant orange pill down my gullet? That pill is the size of a Twinkie! My kids have toy footballs that are smaller than that pill!

No, I choose the liquid. I can at least get that down past my sore throat. Probably.

Probably? Yes, because first I have to get the package open. I attempted to open the store brand generic equivalent of DayQuil, but there was a plastic safety seal around the top of the bottle. I tried to take it off. There were perforations where I was supposed to be able to tear it off. I still couldn't. (Remember, at this point I am a sick and feeble person. The plastic was winning.)

Eventually I had to grab some fingernail clippers and use the file part to rip at the perforation until I was finally able to get the plastic safety seal off. So, I took the plastic dosage cup off of the top, then removed the lid to get to my liquid elixir, but, of course, there was another safety seal on the top of the bottle.

Sometimes the safety seals on the top of bottles have a large flap on top to make it easier to remove the seal. This one did not. Sometimes the safety seals on the top of bottles have three small flaps on the edge that make it slightly easier to remove the seal. This one did not.

So, I was left to use the file from my fingernail clippers again, this time to puncture the safety seal. Of course, then I had to dig into the bottle to grasp the seal so I could remove it from the top of the bottle. In order to get the seal out, I had to submerge my finger a bit into the medicine. (I don't think they recommend that.)

Finally, I could pour my store brand generic equivalent of DayQuil into the dosage cup that comes on the top of the bottle! So that's what I did. And that's when I learned why sometimes it's better to pay a bit more for the actual brand name. The dosage cup had a hole in the bottom of it, so as I poured out the medicine, sticky orange goop oozed all over my bathroom countertop. (I realize now that I probably cracked the dosage cup while struggling to get the first plastic seal off.)

And yes, while I was attempting to get some actual medicine in me, I was sick, tired and more than a bit cranky. And by the time I did get some medicine in me, I was sicker, more tired, and a whole lot crankier.

Unfortunately, two weeks later I was still sick, so I eventually ended up going to the doctor. He diagnosed bronchitis, and gave me a subscription prescription for an inhaler to use when I am having a coughing fit. So, I went to the pharmacy, picked up my subscription prescription, and brought it home. (And why is the pharmacy always at the back of the store? Do they need to make sure the sick people walk as far as possible?)

I had never used an inhaler before, so I needed to look at the instructions. I pulled the little paper with the instructions on it out of the box, unfolded it, and this is what I saw:

Yes, it is all in English! And so is the other side!

The "small" folded paper that came with the medicine was eight folds high and three folds wide. (That's 24 fold sections.) And, the other side was just as full of "important information." (That's 48 total fold sections!) And yes, it's all in English. I counted the words in one of the average fold sections, and there were 200 words. Multiply those 200 words by the 48 fold sections, and that's 9,600 total words!

My gosh, that's as many words as a Tom Clancy novel!!! Do they actually expect a sick person to read all of that before taking the medicine? Really!?! I'm sick, dagnabbit!!! I'm having coughing fits! I can barely focus, and they want me to read The Da Vinci Code?

I just wanted to figure out how to use the inhaler. And drink my sticky orange medicine goop. Why must they make it so hard?

Maybe it's a ploy by the pharmaceutical industry. They already have you sick, so they are trying to keep you sick so you will continue to purchase their medicines that you are unable to open and/or confused as to how to use properly. The longer they keep you sick, the more of their products you will buy.

It seems to be working. Because I'm still sick and tired. And I'm still sick and tired of being sick and tired.

The Phone's Ringing! Answer It!

Ring!  Ring!

The phone is ringing! I must go answer it!

Eating dinner? Let me put this fork down, 'cause I gotta answer that phone!

In the middle of changing a diaper? Slap something on that baby fast, 'cause I gotta answer that phone!

Just stepping out of the shower? Grab a towel and run, 'cause I gotta answer that phone!

Castle and Beckett are about to catch the killer? That's what the pause button is for, 'cause I gotta answer that phone!

In the middle of an actual conversation with an actual person? They can wait, 'cause I gotta answer that phone!

Answer it!!!

This is one area where The Wife and I have a definite difference of philosophy. Where I jump and run to answer it whenever the phone rings, The Wife ignores it and acts indifferent. "I have a phone for my convenience, not anyone else's," is what she says. She says that if the call is important enough, they will leave a message, or they will try to call again.

The Wife feels the phone is not always and not often more important than whatever else she may be doing at that moment. (This includes when she is playing Angry Birds.) Since the vast majority of calls we get are from telemarketers, this approach seems sensible and probably even logical.

But, it's not for me.

You see, when I hear the phone ring, I feel a compulsion to drop everything and answer that phone. You never know, it could be important. I gotta, gotta, gotta answer it!!!

It could be the Vikings calling to offer me a spot as a starting linebacker!

It could be the lottery commission telling me I've won the lottery, even though I've never bought a ticket!

It could be JJ Abrams offering me the role of Spock's brother for the next Star Trek movie!

It could be the Vikings offering me the head coaching job! (Couldn't be worse than Brad Childress.)

It could be Pete's Pork Palace offering me a lifetime supply of free bacon!

It could be Billy Joel, Jeff Lynne, Elton John, Steve Perry, Tom Petty, and Neil Diamond offering me a spot in their new supergroup the Traveling Abernathy's.

Or, you know, it could be a telemarketer. Actually, it probably is a telemarketer.

For all my running and wishing and hoping, about 90% of the calls that come in to the home phone are telemarketers. (The Vikings haven't called once!) (Not even their telemarketing department.) So, I run to answer the phone, dreaming of what it could be, but knowing what it probably will be.

We wouldn't even have a home phone if not for me. When we moved in to the house, The Wife suggested we just use our cell phones. But, I'm old school (or maybe just old), so I thought it might be important to still have a home phone. And, it turns out the home phone is important to have, because without it I wouldn't be up on the latest in telemarketer strategies.

The latest tactic the telemarketers use is having a recording try to pretend it is carrying out a conversation with you. It goes something like this:

TELEMARKETER RECORDING: "Hello, how are you today?" Pause.

PERSON ANSWERING THE PHONE: "Fine." Or some such thing.

TELEMARKETING RECORDING: "That's great to hear! I'm calling because I have an important blah blah blah…."

PERSON ANSWERING PHONE: (Realizes it is a recording. Hangs up.)

It's that initial attempt at conversation and pause that makes people think, ever so briefly, that they are talking to a person and not a recording. I'm not sure who they think they are fooling, because soon enough it becomes obvious that it is a recording. The next time I get one of these calls, it will go something like this:

TELEMARKETER RECORDING: "Hello, how are you today?" Pause.

ME: "Well, I've stabbed myself in the foot with a fork, and blood is getting all over my carpet!"

TELEMARKETER RECORDING: "That's great to hear! I'm calling to blah, blah, blah…."

Obviously, The Wife isn't missing much when she doesn't answer these calls. And, quite frankly, she isn't missing much when she doesn't answer any of the calls. She's right, if it's important they can just leave a message. (To be fair, I should point out that The Wife does answer the phone when our kids are at school, just in case the call is about them.)(Because the importance of the kids outweighs the annoyance of the telemarketers.)

So, I should probably adopt The Wife's attitude to phone calls, shouldn't I?

Ring!

I should just not pay any heed to the ringing of the phone.

Ring!

It will go to voice mail. They can leave a message.

Ring!

It's probably just a telemarketer, right?

Ring!

But then again, the Vikings could be in need of a backup quarterback!

Ri.."Hello?"