Friday Fiction: Coming Soon to a Theater Near You

Owen stood at the head of the table. He did not look happy.

"Okay, people," he said. "You know why we're here. We need some fresh new ideas about cheap old crap! This movie studio needs a hit. You like your jobs? You like getting paid? Well, we need ideas. We gotta find something we can turn into a franchise. Something. Anything." The other people in the room fidgeted in their chairs.

Owen continued. "You see what they did with Legos? 400 million dollars is what they did with Legos! Transformers? Well over a billion, and they're still printing money with 'em! And the comic books! Don't get me started on how much money they're getting from the comic books! I mean, good hell, something called Ant-Man made over 100 million! Ant-Man!!!"

Owen had worked himself into a frenzy. He paused for a moment to collect himself. "There's a lot of crap out there that hasn't been used yet. A lot of ideas out there that aren't movies yet. Toys, TV shows, comic books. Something. Anything. We need ideas." He sat down. "We're going to go around the table. Now, this is just a crap-shooting, brain-storming session. There are no bad ideas here. We just need ideas." He turned to his left. "Jimmy, you start us off."

"Jughead," Jimmy said.

"Jughead?" Owen repeated.

"Yes, Jughead," Jimmy said. "People know who Jughead is. They like him. They think he's funny. Jughead."

"Not bad," Owen said. "Put somebody in a silly hat, get a script about him obsessing over hamburgers. It just might work. I'm thinking maybe a young Jeff Goldblum. Is there a young Jeff Goldblum out there yet?" he asked aloud to no one in particular. "Brenda, get that down. Find out who owns the rights to Archie Comics." Owen turned back to Jimmy. "Not bad, Jimmy. Who's next?"

Everyone looked to Linda, who was in the seat next to Jimmy. "I was thinking about toys that everyone had as a kid. How about those stackable donuts?"

"Stackable donuts?" Owen looked confused.

"You know," Linda said. "There's a big blue one on the bottom, and then a green one above it that's not quite as big, and then a yellow one above it that's not quite as big, and then…"

Coming soon to a theater near you!!!

"Oh, okay, I know what you're talking about," said Owen. "But, how do you get a movie out of that?"

"Oh, you know," Linda said, "just get some typewriter jockey to write it up. They're still cranking out Alvin and the Chipmunk movies, so someone ought to be able to slap something together about stackable donuts."

"Good point," Owen conceded. He turned to the next spot at the table. "Harold?"

"How about this?" Harold asked excitedly. "M*A*S*H: The Movie!"

"M*A*S*H already was a movie," Owen said.

"It was?" Harold asked.

"Yes," said Owen. "It started out as a movie, then they made it into a TV show."

"Actually, it started out as a book, then a movie, then the TV show," said Linda.

"A book, huh?" Jimmy said. "Maybe we could get movie ideas from books!"

"Books?" Owen said incredulously. "I'm not looking for boring ideas! I'm looking for exciting stuff that people actually like. Like toys, comic books or TV shows!" He turned back to Harold. "Do you have anything else?"

Harold looked frantic for a few moments, then blurted out, "How about this? Cheers: The Movie!"

"Hey now, that might actually work," said Owen. "Nice job, Harold." Harold sat back deep in his chair and let out a big sigh of relief. "Next," Owen said, moving on.

"There was this comic book I loved as a kid," Thompson said. "It had great action sequences and wonderful witty banter, exactly what people look for in a comic book movie. I think, with the right people in charge, it could be one of the biggest movies ever!"

Everyone was sitting on the edge of their seat. "Sounds good, Thompson," Owen said. "What's the name of this comic book?"

Thompson grinned and said, "It was called, The Fantastic Four!"

Groans were heard around the room. "Not funny, Thompson," Owen chided. "Not funny at all."

"Actually," Thompson said, "my idea is a little more hippy, trippy, and dippy: Spirograph: The Movie!"

The room was silent for several seconds, then Owen said, "You know, with the right director, it could work. Brenda, look in to what company owns Spirograph." Brenda wrote something on her pad and nodded. "Okay, Kip, you're next."

"Barney, the purple dinosaur," Kip said calmly but confidently. Once again, groans were heard from around the room.

"Barney!" exclaimed Jimmy. "I hated Barney!"

"Exactly," Kip said, still calm and still confident. "Everyone has an opinion about Barney. Some people love Barney. Some people hate Barney. And some people love to hate Barney. The movie will have something for everyone."

"I love it!" Owen shouted. "That's the kind of thinking we need around here! Nice work, Kip!"


Two years later, Kip was standing next to Owen on the red carpet for the movie premiere. Behind them the movie poster had been blown up to 60 feet high. In big letters at the top it said, "Jack Black is: Barney the Dinosaur!!!" Then, below the picture of Jack as Barney was the tag line: "Hello again to all my friends!"

Owen turned to Kip and said, "Great idea, Kip. Great idea."

"I've got another one," Kip said. Owen looked at him with anticipation. "How about," Kip said, "Angelina Jolie is: Dora the Explorer!"

Dollar signs lit up in Owen's eyes.

THE END

Now please choose a title that best fits the story.

O A. Hollywood Has Officially Run Out of Ideas
O B. Those Donuts Will Be Blockbusters
O C. Jurassic Barney
O D. Coming Soon to a Theater Near You
O E. Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

Ninjas at the World Series

I've watched a lot of baseball in my life, and not once had I ever thought about ninjas.

I had all three kids downstairs, and I was watching the World Series. I've never really been much of a baseball fan, but I do enjoy the unpredictability of sports, so I'll often watch the playoffs or World Series.

The Boy and The Girl were watching a little bit with me, asking questions about the game. The Boy would ask, "Did they hit it?" when he heard the sound of the ball whacking into the catcher's mitt. He thought it sounded like a hit. I was trying to explain to them about three strikes and three outs and why they got more than three strikes if they hit foul balls, and some of the other oddities of baseball.

One of the things they weren't understanding very well was how it could be a strike if the batter didn't swing. To someone who has never watched baseball, the strike zone is kind of a hard thing to explain.

After a while they had pretty much lost interest in the game, and were playing at other things. That's why I was more than a bit surprised when The Girl angrily yelled at the screen.

She yelled, in a scolding tone, "Ninja! You're not playing!"

It took me a few seconds to figure out what she was saying and who she was saying it to. In the game, the situation was that there were two outs, and there were two strikes on the batter. The pitch went down the middle, but the batter didn't swing. The umpire called the pitch a strike, meaning both the player and his entire team were out for the inning.

When they call a third strike, umpires usually do so with an exaggerated motion, often punching the air with a clenched fist.

This action is what The Girl found so offensive. She saw a "ninja," a man dressed in all black and wearing a mask, inserting himself into the game and throwing punches in the air. "Ninja! You're not playing!" She wanted him to sit down and leave those baseball players alone.

Ninja or Umpire?

Once I figured out what she was saying and why she was saying it, I busted out laughing. I had never before made the connection between baseball umpires and ninjas, but I could see why The Girl would make the mistake. They have a lot of similarities:

Baseball umpires wear all black. Ninjas wear all black. Baseball umpires wear masks. Ninjas often wear masks. Baseball umpires lurk around in the background, usually not wanting to be seen. Ninjas lurk around in the background, not wanting to be seen.

Of course, there are some differences:

Ninjas often carry weapons, like throwing stars or nunchucks. Baseball umpires are rarely seen carrying weapons. (Maybe they're really stealthy?) Ninjas are usually athletic and quick. Baseball umpires are usually lumbering and often overweight.

Look very closely. Can you see the ninja?

Still, the similarities are strong enough that I could see why The Girl thought that the umpire was a ninja.

(It's probably a sad message on the state of baseball with the youth of today that my seven year-old daughter is much more familiar with ninjas than she is with baseball umpires.)

(It's also probably not good for ninjas that my daughter knows more about them than she does umpires. One of the trademarks of a ninja is stealth. Ninjas are supposed to be sneaky, not well-known to princess-loving second graders.)

So, the next time you watch a baseball game, keep an eye out for ninjas. You never know when they might strike.

Friday Fiction: The Curse of the Nurse Costumes

Jessie had never been fond of Halloween.

She wasn't sure why. It's possible it started that year her mom made her dress up as a Skittle and she had to spend the whole night explaining to people that she was a Skittle, not an M&M. "See," she would say as she pointed to her chest, "It's an 'S,' not an 'M.'"

She pulled up to the Costume-A-Rama store and found a parking spot. She'd seen their billboard and heard their ad on the radio. She'd also already been to Walmart and Target, and their costume sections were pretty well picked through. It was the day before Halloween, so if she couldn't find a costume at Costume-A-Rama, she probably couldn't find one anywhere.

She stepped into the store. It was bigger than it looked. And, yes, they did still have quite a selection of costumes. She started to look down each aisle to see if she could find what she wanted. She was startled when the voice over her shoulder said, "Welcome to Costume-A-Rama! Can I help you find anything?"

"Yes," Jessie replied. "I'm looking for the nurse costumes." Gary had suggested that they go to the party as a doctor and a nurse. They'd only been going out for about three weeks, so she thought it a little odd that he try to dictate to her what costume she wear. But, a nurse costume seemed simple enough, and she really didn't want to put the effort into something more creative.

"The nurse costumes are down Aisle D, over on the left," said the helpful employee.

"Thanks," Jessie said. The employee gave her a nod of acknowledgement, then walked away. Jessie watched as he then snuck up behind another customer and startled them with his offer to help.

Jessie walked down Aisle D and found the nurse costumes. She pulled the first one off the rack. "Sexy Nurse," it said on the tag. There was a picture of a woman in the costume, to show the consumer what the product looked like. The woman in the picture was wearing a short, white "nurse" skirt with a low cut neck. About 90% of the woman's legs were exposed below the skirt, and about 60% of her breasts were showing above it.

Jessie shook her head and put the costume back on the rack. She picked out the next costume. It was labelled as "Slutty Nurse," and it was even skimpier than the first one. Disgusted, she browsed through the entire nurse-costume section. They were labelled "Sexy Nurse," "Slutty Nurse," "Attractive Nurse," "Adult Nurse," "Naughty Nurse," and "Hot Nurse." She did find one costume that was labelled just plain old "Nurse," but upon examination it was the exact same costume as the "Hot Nurse," just with a different picture on the front.

The next night, Jessie arrived at the party feeling pretty good about herself. Everyone was in costume. She knew a lot of the people there, but she could only recognize a few of them. She was looking for Gary, but couldn't see him yet. She did see Sheldon and Suzanne, and she said her hellos to them. They had told her earlier that they were coming as Donald Trump and Hillary Clinton. They both looked fantastic, although Jessie wasn't quite sure which one was dressed as Trump and which one was dressed as Hillary.

Finally, she saw Gary at the back of the room. He was dressed in doctor's scrubs, with a stethoscope around his neck. "Well, hello there, Dr. Gary," she said enthusiastically.

Gary smiled as he heard her voice, but the smile faded as he looked her over. "That's what you're wearing?" he asked with more than a hint of disdain in his voice.

Jessie was confused. "Yes," she said. "Is there a problem with it?"

"Umm," Gary muttered, "I thought you were going to dress as a nurse."

"I am dressed as a nurse," Jessie replied. "My sister Janice is a nurse, so I borrowed some of her scrubs." She threw her arms into the air, as if to present herself. "What do you think?"

"Umm, well, I thought you were going to wear a nurse costume," Gary said.

"This is a nurse costume," Jessie replied. "This is a costume worn by an actual nurse."

"But I was thinking something more, I don't know, sexy," Gary said.

"Really?" Jessie replied. "I'm not sexy enough for you?"

"No, that's not what I meant," Gary sputtered. "I just thought that your costume would, you know, show a little more."

"A little more what?" Jessie was starting to show a little more. A little more of her disgust.

"Oh, you know," Gary continued, "a little more of you. You're so hot that I thought I'd like to see a little more of your body. It's a great body." Gary added that last sentence in an attempt to get himself out of the hole he had been digging. Instead, he only dug himself a little deeper.

Jessie thought for a moment. "What about your costume? You've got a great body, too. Why can't I see some more of it?"

"Well that's just stupid," Gary said. "I'm dressed as a doctor."

"Yes, I see that," Jessie said. "But why couldn't you be a bit more of a sexy doctor?"

"Oh, come on," Gary retorted. "This is how doctors dress!"

"And this," Jessie said as she waved her hand from head to toe to show off her costume, "is how nurses dress!"

Gary looked flummoxed. Jessie stepped a little closer to him and patted him on the shoulder. "Gary," she said, "I'll be seeing you around. I'm going to go and enjoy what's left of this party. And the next time you see me, no matter what I'm wearing, I'll be dressed as your ex-girlfriend."

Gary stood with his jaw agape as Jessie walked away. She had a satisfied smile on her face as she wandered through the crowd. She saw Donald Trump and stopped to talk to him. (Or was it Hillary?)

THE END

Now choose a title that best fits this story.

O A. Sexy Nurse
O B. Naughty Nurse
O C. Drama at the Costume-A-Rama
O D. The Nice Nurse and the Naughty Doctor
O E. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

Have a Nice, Cold Beverage

Progress is nice. Except when it slows things down.

One of my favorite things is a cold, refreshing soda pop. Of course, depending on where you are in the country you might call it a soda, or you might call it a pop, or you might call it a soda pop, or you might call it a fountain drink, or you might call it a fizzy drink, or you might call it a carbonated beverage. Whatever you happen to call it, I like it.

The way we get our soda pops has changed greatly over the years. I'm old enough (barely) to remember going to the soda fountain at the drug store. We'd sit up at the counter on one of the twirly stools and order our preferred drink. (I usually chose root beer or red cream soda.) The person behind the counter would put the cup (or mug!) under the magical machine, pull a lever, and the delectable beverage would flow. When the cup (or mug!) was full, they would place it on the counter in front of us for our consumption. It was a beautiful arrangement.

A new "old" soda fountain counter.

Most of those drug store counters are gone now, except for a select few of the old shops that are still open, and some new ones attempting to capitalize on the nostalgia of the old ones. And, how we get our beverages has changed, too.

I think it started with the gas stations and convenience stores. At some point, many years ago, someone decided that, instead of the person behind the counter filling all of the drinks, it would be okay for the general population to get their own beverages. This arrangement seemed to work, because it let the customer get whatever drink they wanted, and it freed up the person behind the counter so they could spend more time on their phone.

Before long, fast food restaurants also adopted the get-your-own-drink philosophy. And no one really complained. For the customer it meant unlimited refills! Also, you could mix flavors and choose how much (if any) ice you wanted. It was good news for beverage lovers.

And so it went for several years. There were no advancements in beverage dispersement, but no one seemed to care. But then, suddenly, a new innovation appeared. I first noticed it a couple of years ago when I ventured into a local Burger King. Instead of the usual soda machine with dispensers for six or eight different flavors, they had a machine with a single dispenser, but a seemingly unlimited variety of flavors from which to choose!

The machine is called "Coca Cola Freestyle."

This was exciting news! Simply by pushing the touch screen, almost any flavor of beverage is available. According to Wikipedia (which is correct at least 63% of the time) there are over 125 possible drink and flavor combinations.

At a nearby Wendy's, this man chooses between Coke, Diet Coke, Vanilla Coke, Cherry Coke, Lime Coke, and, quite possibly, Guava Coke.

I like soda pop. I like different flavors. I really like these machines! I could think of absolutely no problem with these machines. In my mind they were perfect beverage dispensers. Until, one day, I experienced the problem first hand.

The Wife, the kids, and I went to a Wendy's during the lunch hour rush. Before we could order our food, we had to figure out which was the line to order the food and which was the line for the beverage machine. We ordered our food and we were given our cups to fill at the wonderful drink dispenser. That's when the trouble began.

There was one machine with only one dispenser. And there was a long line. When some people approached the machine, they didn't know how to use it. (A very confused little old lady, who probably still has a corded phone at home, was eventually helped by the impatient youngster behind her in line.)

And then there were the people who felt the need to browse. Despite the fact that they could see the dozen people in line behind them, some folks just couldn't quite decide on which flavor to choose.

So many choices! I need to consider each and every one very carefully.

The old soda machines had limited flavors, but they did have six or eight places from which soda was dispensed. Sometimes two or even three people could be getting beverages at the same time! Not so with these new machines. 

By the time I got drinks for myself and my family, my food was cold and not as enjoyable. (It's a proven fact: warm french fries are better than cold french fries.) At one point I was about ready to take my cup up to the counter and ask them to just get me root beer from the machine they have back there for the drive-thru.

And refills? Forget refills. No one wants to stand in line for fifteen minutes to get a refill.

So, the way we get our beverages has changed a lot over the years. These new soda machines are great, if you go out to eat during non-peak hours. Still, I think I prefer sitting on the twirly red stools at the soda fountain counter, waiting for someone to hand me my mug full of root beer. (With foam on the top.)

Who Do You Want To Be For Halloween?

My son wants to be a doctor.

That's a good thing, right? I would be very happy if my son were to become a doctor. Unfortunately, he's only talking about his Halloween costume.

A doctor? That shouldn't be too hard. We should be able to make him a nice doctor costume out of stuff we have around the house. (And when I say "we" I mean "The Wife.")

Wait...now he says he wants to be Captain America. That should be fine. I like Captain America and what he stands for. I’ve seen some Captain America costumes at the store. In fact, I wouldn’t mind having one of those cool Captain America shields myself.

Wait…now he says he wants to be Spider-Man. I guess that’s okay, too. Spider-Man’s not as patriotic as Captain America, but he’s still heroic.

Wait…now he wants to be an astronaut.

Wait…now he wants to be Anna from “Frozen” because his big sister wants to be Elsa. Umm, I’m not sure how I feel about this one. It definitely wouldn’t be my first choice for him. I don’t want to discourage it too much, because then he might show his stubborn streak and try to hold his ground. It’s probably best if I just give it a few days until he changes his mind again.

(A couple of years ago his older sister spent four months declaring she wanted to be Shaggy from “Scooby-Doo” for Halloween. Fortunately for us, those four months were between December and March, so by the time October rolled around she had long forgotten it.)(No father has ever aspired for his daughter to look like Shaggy from “Scooby-Doo.”)

And now…still Anna. On the plus side he’s listened to the “Frozen” soundtrack enough that he knows all of the songs.

Wait…now he wants to be Olaf the snowman from “Frozen.” That’s better! A snowman costume shouldn’t be too hard (for The Wife) to figure out.

Wait…now he wants to be Jar Jar Binks! He’s never even seen any of the “Star Wars” movies, so how does he even know who that is? And there definitely won’t be any Jar Jar Binks costumes at the local store, so that means we’ll have to search the internets.

Wait…now he wants to be Iron Man. Good! But he was Iron Man two years ago, and that costume doesn’t fit anymore. We’ll have to get a new one.

Wait…now he wants to be a fire fighter. Even better! He can dress up like a REAL hero!

(Of course, there’s still some time between now and Halloween, so he MIGHT change his mind another 17 times.)

Friday Fiction: The Green Glowing Rocks of Home

"Karl, is there anything else on the agenda before we turn over time to the general population?" The lines behind the microphones in each aisle were already about six or seven people deep.

"Yes, Ted, there is," Karl answered, looking down at his notes. "When people come to pick up their kids, they've been parking in the bus zone again. That one day last week Helen couldn't get the bus to where she usually parks it for the kids to get on because some car was in the way. And since the bus wasn't parked where it usually is, the Anderson kids missed it. So then Janie had to come all the way into town to pick up her kids, and she wasn't very happy about it." Janie Anderson had written a terse note about the incident, and everyone on the school board had seen it.

Ted nodded. "Okay, so this is a problem. What can we do about it?" Ted, Karl, and Pam all turned and looked at Bernie, because he was the one in charge of the buses.

"Well," Bernie said, "we'll have to re-paint the lines. And we'll have to make sure nobody parks in the red zone. And it'd probably be a good idea to have a teacher posted out there for the next couple of weeks to make sure everybody's complying. Is that good enough, Janie?" The members of the school board looked to where Janie Anderson was sitting on the third row. She nodded her head in agreement.

"Okay," Ted said, "Was that the last of it?" Karl gave him the "thumb's up" sign. "Then," Ted continued, "I guess it's time to open things up for any concerns you all might have. Martha, it looks like you're up first."

"Thanks, Ted," said Martha, speaking into the mic a bit nervously. "Well, it's about my son, Clark. You know those green rocks that everyone has been finding lately?" Several people in the room nodded. "It seems that whenever he's in the same room with some of those rocks he gets really dizzy and weak and sick. So, I was wondering if we could make some rule to keep those green rocks out of his classroom."

"That sounds reasonable," Ted said from his spot behind the table at the front of the room. "We'll see if we can work something out."

"What?!" shouted Kaitlin from the audience. "No way! My son Bryan loves those green rocks! Why shouldn't he get to play with them just because they make one kid a little sick?"

"Well," Martha replied, "actually he gets more that just a little sick. We took Clark to see the doctor and he told us that not only does Clark get really sick if he's in the same room as the green rocks, but that if he touches them it might cause a reaction which could kill him. So we want to be very careful about those green rocks."

Kaitlin was standing now, and she had taken over the second microphone. "If? Might? Could? It sound to me like a lot of guess work. You don't even know for certain what would happen if your boy touches those green rocks, do you?"

Martha tried to calm herself so she didn't seem to angry when she answered. "No, I don't know for certain. But, if there's a significant chance these rocks could kill my son, I don't want them anywhere around him."

"But Bryan loves to play with those rocks," Kaitlin continued. "If Bryan can't play with his green rocks, it might make him sad and depressed. Why should the concerns about your son's health outweigh the concerns about my son's health?"

"Well," said Martha, "there's a big difference between your son maybe being a little sad and my son maybe dying. I'm not saying your son can't play with the rocks. He can play with them before and after school all he wants. I just don't want him bringing them into the classroom where they might kill my son!"

"I don't understand why I should be responsible for the well-being of your son," Kaitlin sneered. "It sounds to me like he needs to learn for himself to stay away from the green rocks. I don't know why my son has to suffer because your son has a problem."

"We are trying to teach Clark to stay away from the green rocks," Martha responded. "But, he's only in second grade. There's only so much he can control right now. That's why I'm asking for everyone to be reasonable and not send any of the green rocks to school."

"Reasonable?" Kaitlin was apoplectic. "Reasonable? What is my Bryan supposed to bring to class for his next Show and Tell? Rocks that don't have a green glow to them? Do you know how absurd that sounds?"

"There are lots of things your son can take for Show and Tell besides the green rocks," Martha sighed.

"Oh, and what if he brings something else and it makes some other kid sneeze?" Kaitlin asked. "Will we have to ban kids from bringing anything to class?"

"The only reason I'm asking for this is because it can make my Clark deathly ill. There's a big difference between someone sneezing and someone possibly dying."

Kaitlin snorted. "If you're so worried about this, why don't you just keep your boy home and home-school him?"

Martha's face turned red with anger as she replied. "I am not going to lock my son away in some fortress of solitude just because he is different! I don't think it's asking too much to have your son not play with the green rocks while he's at school. My son's life is at stake here. This shouldn't be so difficult."

"Fine!" Kaitlin said sarcastically. "We'll just kowtow to your son's every whim. He'll grow up with such a sense of entitlement because everyone has always had to bend their will for him. Is that what you want?"

"No, it's not. I wish my son wasn't different. I wish the green rocks didn't make him sick. But they do. He doesn't have any choice in the matter. I..."

Kaitlin interrupted. "What happens when he's an adult? There won't be any school board to go crying to. No one to bully other kids into not playing with the green rocks around your precious boy. Don't you want to teach him responsibility now?"

"It's not a matter of responsibility," Martha replied. "We can teach him to avoid the green rocks all day long, but there's no way for him to know if your kid has some in his pockets. It's not like he has x-ray vision." She turned to Ted and the rest of the school board at the front of the room. "Isn't there anything you can do to help protect my son?"

Ted took in a deep breath. "Martha, Kaitlin, you've both made some strong points. We'll have to take this under advisement as a board." Neither woman looked satisfied, but they both stepped away from their microphones and headed for their seats. "It looks like you're up next, Lisa," Ted said.

"I'm here to talk about homework," the woman said. "I send my daughter to school to do school work. Why do these teachers feel the need to send school work home with them? Can't they do it all there? Isn't that what school is for? They've got all day to do it!" About half of the people in attendance began to applaud. The other half rolled their eyes.

THE END

 Now choose a title that best fits this story.

O A. School Board Blues
O B. The Allegory of the Allergies
O C. The Fortress of Solitude
O D. The Green Glowing Rocks of Home
O E. Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

[Author's Note: My seven year-old daughter has an allergy to peanuts and tree nuts. The doctor told us that as little as one-eighth of a peanut could cause a reaction that could kill her. Thankfully, she can be in the same room as the nuts, she just can't touch or eat them. So, it's not necessary for her school to ban all nuts. My daughter sits at a separate table during lunch time, one that is designated as "nut free." The school administration, the students, and the parents of the students have all been very helpful and accommodating. and for that we are very grateful.]

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        

7 Life Hacks to Help You Be Happy

I remember when hacks were bad. Now they're all the rage.

The word "hack" has a lot of definitions, and most of them aren't very favorable. It could be a foul in basketball. ("He hacked the shooter across the arms, forcing the ref to call a two-shot foul.") It could be a writer or artist who does inferior work with the sole intent of getting paid. ("He was a hack whose best work was a poor imitation of Stephen King.) It could be something you do to a slab of meat. ("She grabbed the cleaver and took a hack at the steak.")

But lately, hacks have been getting a better reputation. Now a hack can be a shortcut; a better, quicker way of doing something productive. Life-hacks, especially, are very popular today. Life-hacks are ways to make life in general easier, more convenient, and better.

And really, I wouldn't be much of a hack writer if I didn't take a hack at writing up some life-hacks to ease your burdens and make your life more plush. So, here are my 7 Life-Hacks to Help You Be Happy!

1. Be nice to people who are nice to you.
It sounds pretty simple, doesn't it? If people are nice to you, you should be nice back to them. A long time ago a great* man once said, "It's nice to be nice to the nice." It's wonderful advice by which we should all live.

(*Okay, so this is a quote from Frank Burns, a character on the television show M*A*S*H. And no, Frank Burns wasn't a great man, but he was a great television character.)

2. Be nice to people who are mean to you.
One day, when The Girl (my seven year-old) and The Boy (my five year-old) weren't getting along very well, I lectured them and used the "It's nice to be nice to the nice" quote. A few minutes later The Girl turned to me and said, "Dad, you know what? It's mean to be mean to the mean." I laughed, and because I laughed she plugged a few more words into the formula. Such as, "It's silly to be silly to the silly," "It's wrong to be wrong to the wrong," and "It's stupid to be stupid to the stupid."

I learned a few things from this, including that The Girl is smart and silly. But, it was the first thing she said, "It's mean to be mean to the mean," that really got me thinking. It doesn't do any good to be mean to people who are mean to you; if anything this will just keep the cycle of meanness chugging along until somebody gets hurt. But, if you change things up and be nice to the people who are mean to you, they might actually stop being mean.

3. Wear clean underwear.
Mom used to always say, "Wear clean underwear. What if you were to get in an accident?" I never really understood this because 1) if you get in an accident, you might end up dirtying your underwear anyway; and B) I'm sure the doctors and nurses have more important things to do than check out the cleanliness level of your boxer shorts.

That being said, "wear clean underwear" is still good advice. You will feel better with clean underwear next to your skin. And, you'll be less likely to be stinky.

4. Don't grow a mustache and a mullet.
And if you do, don't take a photo of it. And if you did take a photo of it, don't post it on the internets. (The internets are forever.)

Should you take advice from this man?
(It's okay, I don't have the mustache anymore.)

5. Stay calm when driving.
There are a lot of idiots our on the roads. A lot of idiots. But, if we spend all of our time getting mad at the idiot drivers, we'll be angry drivers ourselves. And angry drivers are usually idiots, too.

I don't think anyone has ever flipped somebody off and then had that person track them down and say, "Thank you so much for showing me your middle finger! It helped me realize the mistakes I had been making while driving, and as a result I am a much better driver and a much better person!"

6. Don't watch reality television.
We can use our time in many different ways. We can work. We can play. We can read. We can help others. We can enjoy hobbies. We can better ourselves. Or, we can watch reality television.

Has anyone ever stepped away from the television after spending a few hours keeping up with the Kardashians and thought, "I'm a better person now than I was when I started watching this show?" I ask this because I don't know. I've never actually kept up with any Kardashians. (I usually keep away from the Kardashians.)

Now, I will say that I do differentiate between "reality" shows and "talent" shows. I think "talent" shows (like The Voice, and America's Got Talent) are acceptable to watch, because sometimes it's enjoyable and uplifting to see people display their actual talents. What I'm saying to avoid are the "reality" shows featuring untalented people blab on about themselves, like the Kardashians and the Real Housewives of Some City You Don't Care About. (By the way, those are not real housewives.)

7. Spend time with your family and friends.
Think back to the best memories you have. Your friends are there with you, aren't they? Or your family. Or both. The best, most fun, and most wonderful times of our lives are spent with the people we care about.

You'll never remember that night you stayed up until two in the morning watching Shootfighter II starring Billy Zabka. Unless you watched it with some of your friends and you spent the whole time laughing and having fun with it.

Family and friends can turn good times into great times. I could have fun at Disneyland by myself, but the lasting memories I have are of the sheer joy on my daughter's face as she met her first princess and the sense of awe on my son's face as he looked down from the top of the ferris wheel.

It's always better to share than be selfish.


So, there you have it! Go ahead and take a hack at trying my life-hacks. I think you'll find that they'll help you be happier. (Especially that one about the mullet. You do not want to be that guy!)