6.11.2010
Give Me the Remote! or More Adventures at the Gym
Excuse me, ma'am, but are you trying to change the channel on that TV? You are? Oh, well maybe you should let me help. No, no. That button won't change the channel. That's called the power button. As you obviously haven't noticed, you've successfully turned off the TV you're trying to watch, as well as the two adjacent to it. Oh, this is your 14-year-old son on the treadmill next to you? Yes, maybe giving him the remote is a good idea. There you go, 2 out of the 3 are now back on. But look, your son changed the channel on yours. Congratulations. Of course, you missed the one that other people were actually watching. That one's still off. Yes, that's why that little old lady is giving you the stink eye. Well, if you give me the remote now, I can turn that one back on. Then we can avoid her coming over here and breaking out your teeth. On the bright side, you'd be able to borrow her dentures. Yes, I agree, giving me the remote is the right course of action. Enjoy your program.
5.28.2010
Imaginary Friends
Many children have had or will have imaginary friends. Hopefully not like Drop Dead Fred--have you seen that movie? Funny, but at time somewhat inappropriate. But I digress...
But not my child. Nope. He doesn't have an imaginary friend. No way. That's way under-doing it. As is customary in our family, he has shot way beyond the mark. He has an imaginary army, which includes--as he calls them--"my guys and my men". As far as I've been able to tell, they consist of various knights and kung fu warriors (mostly of the panda variety), and at times imaginary chipmunk mercenaries (this is a rare occurance, so I assume they're only hired on as required, and paid in nuts, seeds and berries). The regulars spend most of the day protecting our home (or portions of the family in whatever activities they might be engaged in outside of the home, such as grocery shopping, church activities, yardwork) from bad guys. I have often been saved from sneak attacks by various mallevolent characters at the hand of his guys and men, who follow his every command. Though I haven't personally seen them, they seem to come in handy at sundry times.
As far as the "bad guys" are concerned, they include but not limited to bad knights, evil dragons, dinosaurs (mostly carniverous), lions, tiger and bears (obligatory "oh my!"), and Tailung from Kung Fu Panda (in addition to Tailung's general and armies, courtesy of kungfupandaworld.com, which is a good time for kids and dads alike). These bad guys at times try to attack unnoticed, while we're picking up toys, doing the dishes, shopping for food, folding clothes, doing yardwork, or while passing through the "rainforest" (under the neighbor's willow tree) while on walks. They are always foiled in their dasterdly attempts by some contingent of the army, much to our relief.
I know his army is generally outfitted with swords, but at various times they have been known to use guns, lasers, clubs, sticks (which are readily available in the rainforest), varying sports balls, and maybe bombs. They are also quite skilled in hand-to-hand combat. As far as strategy is concerned, I think overwhelming force is the usual approach. Subtlty, intrigue, ambush, etc. haven't quite made their appearance yet, though I doubt they're too far in the future. This will hopefully add to the family's safety, and will be appreciated all around.
Marjorie Taylor, professor of psychology at the University of Oregon and author of Imaginary Companions and the Children Who Create Them found that 65 percent of all children have make-believe friends at some point in their young lives (from Singletons: The Words of Only Children blog by Susan Newman; PsychologyToday.com). Seems like having imaginary friends is an ordinary thing...which makes my child extraordinary.
But not my child. Nope. He doesn't have an imaginary friend. No way. That's way under-doing it. As is customary in our family, he has shot way beyond the mark. He has an imaginary army, which includes--as he calls them--"my guys and my men". As far as I've been able to tell, they consist of various knights and kung fu warriors (mostly of the panda variety), and at times imaginary chipmunk mercenaries (this is a rare occurance, so I assume they're only hired on as required, and paid in nuts, seeds and berries). The regulars spend most of the day protecting our home (or portions of the family in whatever activities they might be engaged in outside of the home, such as grocery shopping, church activities, yardwork) from bad guys. I have often been saved from sneak attacks by various mallevolent characters at the hand of his guys and men, who follow his every command. Though I haven't personally seen them, they seem to come in handy at sundry times.
As far as the "bad guys" are concerned, they include but not limited to bad knights, evil dragons, dinosaurs (mostly carniverous), lions, tiger and bears (obligatory "oh my!"), and Tailung from Kung Fu Panda (in addition to Tailung's general and armies, courtesy of kungfupandaworld.com, which is a good time for kids and dads alike). These bad guys at times try to attack unnoticed, while we're picking up toys, doing the dishes, shopping for food, folding clothes, doing yardwork, or while passing through the "rainforest" (under the neighbor's willow tree) while on walks. They are always foiled in their dasterdly attempts by some contingent of the army, much to our relief.
I know his army is generally outfitted with swords, but at various times they have been known to use guns, lasers, clubs, sticks (which are readily available in the rainforest), varying sports balls, and maybe bombs. They are also quite skilled in hand-to-hand combat. As far as strategy is concerned, I think overwhelming force is the usual approach. Subtlty, intrigue, ambush, etc. haven't quite made their appearance yet, though I doubt they're too far in the future. This will hopefully add to the family's safety, and will be appreciated all around.
Marjorie Taylor, professor of psychology at the University of Oregon and author of Imaginary Companions and the Children Who Create Them found that 65 percent of all children have make-believe friends at some point in their young lives (from Singletons: The Words of Only Children blog by Susan Newman; PsychologyToday.com). Seems like having imaginary friends is an ordinary thing...which makes my child extraordinary.
3.31.2010
Observations at the Gym
To start this out, I should mention that I repeated a previous gym prep error on Monday...I'll let you guess which (hint: pick the one that seems most embarrassing).
This morning, though, I remembered everything and had a pretty good workout, then hit the locker room to get ready. After I showered I began shaving. At this time, a rather large man passed behind me passing from the shower to the lockers. I say rather large, but that may be an understatement...he's morbidly obese. He's probably 5'7" and I would guess 375 lbs...maybe more. He's large enough that he doesn't have to wear anything to keep...um..."himself"...covered up. Ahem. I see him almost every day, so the sight isn't shocking anymore. I've actually started to feel sad seeing him...it can't be a great way to live.
But the real kicker was the septegenarian who obviously hasn't seen that sight before. After Big Guy passed, the elder gentleman (used somewhat facetiously) came into view in my mirror. His short walk to water aerobics had been stopped short by his dentures following his chin to the floor as he stared wide-eyed behind his coke bottle glasses for at least 12 seconds at the naked glory of morbid obesity strolling past. I was hoping he would have caught my "Dude! What's the deal!? Don't you have any sort of decency!?" stare back at him in the mirror, but he obliviously turned and headed out to exercise his aging frame.
Anyway, in the tradition of Aesop, the moral of the story is: don't stare, because you're usually the one who ends up looking like a moron.
This morning, though, I remembered everything and had a pretty good workout, then hit the locker room to get ready. After I showered I began shaving. At this time, a rather large man passed behind me passing from the shower to the lockers. I say rather large, but that may be an understatement...he's morbidly obese. He's probably 5'7" and I would guess 375 lbs...maybe more. He's large enough that he doesn't have to wear anything to keep...um..."himself"...covered up. Ahem. I see him almost every day, so the sight isn't shocking anymore. I've actually started to feel sad seeing him...it can't be a great way to live.
But the real kicker was the septegenarian who obviously hasn't seen that sight before. After Big Guy passed, the elder gentleman (used somewhat facetiously) came into view in my mirror. His short walk to water aerobics had been stopped short by his dentures following his chin to the floor as he stared wide-eyed behind his coke bottle glasses for at least 12 seconds at the naked glory of morbid obesity strolling past. I was hoping he would have caught my "Dude! What's the deal!? Don't you have any sort of decency!?" stare back at him in the mirror, but he obliviously turned and headed out to exercise his aging frame.
Anyway, in the tradition of Aesop, the moral of the story is: don't stare, because you're usually the one who ends up looking like a moron.
3.11.2010
I Really Suck at this Whole Blogging Thing
It's been a long while (1 year, 8 months, 11 days) since I posted here. It couldn't necessarily be due to my self-diagnosed ADD...or it could. It isn't really an excuse, but I have the same problem with keeping a journal. As an update of my continued pursuit of the Unsmart, I offer the following example(s):
Late last year I began using the locker room at the gym. It's a bit of a time saver...go to work out, get ready there, and head straight to work. I've also been getting in to work earlier...all of which are not Unsmart in and of themselves. In my getting prepared for the gym (generally the night before) I have had the following mishaps, which haven't been discovered until the next day:
1. Forgotten socks - Luckily, the nearby Macey's (grocery store) had one pair of black men's socks (which has now become a bit of a joke at the office...you figure it out) left, and they were on sale for 99 cents.
2. Forgotten towel - This led to a necessary trip back home to shower. I guess I could have air dried, but I'll leave the extensive nackedness in the locker room to the old guys who come for water aerobics and the hot tub. (You're very welcome for that mental image.)
3. Mismatched shoes - Luckily I had brought jeans to wear to work, so I could wear my running shoes. Otherwise I'd have looked like the old folks at the mall who go to walk their laps for exercise wearing slacks and walking shoes (for Layton High alums who are my age or older, that means Mr. Petersen).
4. Forgotten garments - I just got showered and went commando back to the house, went in the back door so as not to wake the kids or Ang and snuck down into the laundry room where my lovely wife had a basket of clean g's.
I think that should sufficiently prove how Unsmart I am.
Late last year I began using the locker room at the gym. It's a bit of a time saver...go to work out, get ready there, and head straight to work. I've also been getting in to work earlier...all of which are not Unsmart in and of themselves. In my getting prepared for the gym (generally the night before) I have had the following mishaps, which haven't been discovered until the next day:
1. Forgotten socks - Luckily, the nearby Macey's (grocery store) had one pair of black men's socks (which has now become a bit of a joke at the office...you figure it out) left, and they were on sale for 99 cents.
2. Forgotten towel - This led to a necessary trip back home to shower. I guess I could have air dried, but I'll leave the extensive nackedness in the locker room to the old guys who come for water aerobics and the hot tub. (You're very welcome for that mental image.)
3. Mismatched shoes - Luckily I had brought jeans to wear to work, so I could wear my running shoes. Otherwise I'd have looked like the old folks at the mall who go to walk their laps for exercise wearing slacks and walking shoes (for Layton High alums who are my age or older, that means Mr. Petersen).
4. Forgotten garments - I just got showered and went commando back to the house, went in the back door so as not to wake the kids or Ang and snuck down into the laundry room where my lovely wife had a basket of clean g's.
I think that should sufficiently prove how Unsmart I am.
6.22.2008
Ice Cream Theory
My lovely wife has a theory that I think everyone needs to become familiar with, as follows:
After consuming a meal, the food that has entered your stomach, being of irregular shape, leaves unused space in your stomach. Ice cream eaten immediately following a meal melts and fills in those unused spaces, making for a more efficient use of stomach space. As you aren't using any more space in your stomach, the calories in the ice cream are considered null and void, having no effect on your overall calorie intake.
At peril of my life and with complete awareness of the unsmartness of it, I am going to disagree with my wife, and call the whole theory bogus! Bupkis! Insanity! It's this kind of thinking that has gotten us to such a sad state in this country! That's right--I'm talking about the obesity crisis. In contrast to my wife's theory, I would like to strongly urge Congress to take the following action to stem the tidal wave of obesity:
Each person in the country should be assigned an Individual Confectionery Restriction and Allotment Policy--ICRAP for short. Basically, everyone is allowed only a certain amount of sweets daily--a daily sweet eating cap, if you will. Anyone who eats more than their allotment will be subject to enormous fines and possible jail time. Of course, there are those who will constantly consume less than their ICRAP level, and so a system will be put in place where those people (including diabetics, really healthy people, anorexics, and lactose-intolerants) can trade their unused ICRAP to others who wish to consume more than their ICRAP for a set dollar amount.
This will immediately serve as an avenue to decrease the average demand or sweets, and create a new, healthy America. In addition, there will be great economic benefits. As demand for the sweets decreases, the prices will rise. And higher prices are much better for you, and for the sweet-making companies. They will also be able to pay their employees more because the higher prices mean they will make more money. It's a win-win-win-win-win-win-win...is that enough wins for you?...situation!
So support ICRAP, and support hope and change for America's future!
After consuming a meal, the food that has entered your stomach, being of irregular shape, leaves unused space in your stomach. Ice cream eaten immediately following a meal melts and fills in those unused spaces, making for a more efficient use of stomach space. As you aren't using any more space in your stomach, the calories in the ice cream are considered null and void, having no effect on your overall calorie intake.
At peril of my life and with complete awareness of the unsmartness of it, I am going to disagree with my wife, and call the whole theory bogus! Bupkis! Insanity! It's this kind of thinking that has gotten us to such a sad state in this country! That's right--I'm talking about the obesity crisis. In contrast to my wife's theory, I would like to strongly urge Congress to take the following action to stem the tidal wave of obesity:
Each person in the country should be assigned an Individual Confectionery Restriction and Allotment Policy--ICRAP for short. Basically, everyone is allowed only a certain amount of sweets daily--a daily sweet eating cap, if you will. Anyone who eats more than their allotment will be subject to enormous fines and possible jail time. Of course, there are those who will constantly consume less than their ICRAP level, and so a system will be put in place where those people (including diabetics, really healthy people, anorexics, and lactose-intolerants) can trade their unused ICRAP to others who wish to consume more than their ICRAP for a set dollar amount.
This will immediately serve as an avenue to decrease the average demand or sweets, and create a new, healthy America. In addition, there will be great economic benefits. As demand for the sweets decreases, the prices will rise. And higher prices are much better for you, and for the sweet-making companies. They will also be able to pay their employees more because the higher prices mean they will make more money. It's a win-win-win-win-win-win-win...is that enough wins for you?...situation!
So support ICRAP, and support hope and change for America's future!
5.17.2008
Sleep Deprivation
I'm feeling unusually unsmart today. I think it may have something to do with the recent lack of sleep that has been part of my life. To shed light on this phenomenon, I think that it should be duly noted that my lovely wife gave birth to our second son this week. There is nothing like a newborn in the family to shake things up. Some common side effects of having a new baby are:
-Lack of sleep (as previously described). I don't feel terribly bad for myself, though, as my wife has a greater number of shifts on the job than I do, so she is running on fewer hours than I. I would gladly take over some of her shifts to let her rest, but I'm not correctly equipped for the job, as it were.
-Increase in cute factor. Let's face it, nothing but a baby can elicit the overwhelming volume of "Oohs", "Aahs", and other inane babble. Actually, I can think of two exceptions to that rule: extreme drunkenness and massive head trauma.
-Increase in random visitors. Not that I don't mind the ones bringing food or gifts (none of which, by the way, are addressed to me), but there seems to be an increase in unsmartness pertaining to the proper scheduling of visits, including arrival and departure times. You need an air traffic controller outside your hospital room to make sure there are no fiery wrecks. And this at a time when baby has just been squeezed through a small hole, then poked, prodded and measured for days; and mother has just done the squeezing along with all its undesirable aftermath and is trying (futilely, it seems) to recover. This increase in unsmartness seems to be directly proportional to the undesirability of the visitor.
-Decrease in food storage space. This is especially common in areas with high concentrations of Mormons, particularly adult females. Not that I mind; I'm just not sure where to put it all. Most at risk is freezer space, which is generally lower in cubic footage that other types of food storage (like, say, stuff you can throw in the basement). Luckily, there hasn't yet arrived the influx of ham and funeral potatoes (more on the name at another time) than is usually expected.
There are other side effects of baby arrival, however, I'm falling asleep as I type (it's 1pm). Needless to say, newborn arrival is directly connected to increases in unsmartness for all involved.
-Lack of sleep (as previously described). I don't feel terribly bad for myself, though, as my wife has a greater number of shifts on the job than I do, so she is running on fewer hours than I. I would gladly take over some of her shifts to let her rest, but I'm not correctly equipped for the job, as it were.
-Increase in cute factor. Let's face it, nothing but a baby can elicit the overwhelming volume of "Oohs", "Aahs", and other inane babble. Actually, I can think of two exceptions to that rule: extreme drunkenness and massive head trauma.
-Increase in random visitors. Not that I don't mind the ones bringing food or gifts (none of which, by the way, are addressed to me), but there seems to be an increase in unsmartness pertaining to the proper scheduling of visits, including arrival and departure times. You need an air traffic controller outside your hospital room to make sure there are no fiery wrecks. And this at a time when baby has just been squeezed through a small hole, then poked, prodded and measured for days; and mother has just done the squeezing along with all its undesirable aftermath and is trying (futilely, it seems) to recover. This increase in unsmartness seems to be directly proportional to the undesirability of the visitor.
-Decrease in food storage space. This is especially common in areas with high concentrations of Mormons, particularly adult females. Not that I mind; I'm just not sure where to put it all. Most at risk is freezer space, which is generally lower in cubic footage that other types of food storage (like, say, stuff you can throw in the basement). Luckily, there hasn't yet arrived the influx of ham and funeral potatoes (more on the name at another time) than is usually expected.
There are other side effects of baby arrival, however, I'm falling asleep as I type (it's 1pm). Needless to say, newborn arrival is directly connected to increases in unsmartness for all involved.
4.29.2008
My Wife the Cereal Junkie
It's a catchy name for a first post, I know. I've been meaning to start this for some time, but I'm so unsmart I can't remember to do it when I have time--which is quite a lot lately. Too many other things rattling around in my head lately, among them the arrival of a new baby boy who should be here in a couple weeks at the very most. Which leads me to the namesake of this title's post: my lovely wife.
There are few things in this world a man should not do in regard to a wife who is eight months (plus) pregnant, the least of which is tell her she looks fat. (That, of course, is a capital crime at any time in a woman's life, let alone during pregnancy.) Another very important rule is to avoid any use of the combination of letters "N" and "O", especially when it comes to food.
My wife, even when not pregnant, loves cold cereal. It's a constant in our marriage. The last several times we have gone to the store, cereal has been far from our list of things to buy. Nevertheless, it gets added to the list, generally after all the other shopping has been done. "Let's get some new cereal!" she hints. As my tongue, teeth and lips begin to form the unsmartest of all phrases--namely, "We don't need any."--I feel a sharp pain pierce my back between the fifth and sixth ribs. My breathing shortens, and my heart struggles to beat as her eye daggers rip through my flesh. "Sure, honey. What kind do you want?" I manage to force it out between painful breaths, overcoming my natural male tendencies. I'm unsmart, but I'm not that unsmart.
There are few things in this world a man should not do in regard to a wife who is eight months (plus) pregnant, the least of which is tell her she looks fat. (That, of course, is a capital crime at any time in a woman's life, let alone during pregnancy.) Another very important rule is to avoid any use of the combination of letters "N" and "O", especially when it comes to food.
My wife, even when not pregnant, loves cold cereal. It's a constant in our marriage. The last several times we have gone to the store, cereal has been far from our list of things to buy. Nevertheless, it gets added to the list, generally after all the other shopping has been done. "Let's get some new cereal!" she hints. As my tongue, teeth and lips begin to form the unsmartest of all phrases--namely, "We don't need any."--I feel a sharp pain pierce my back between the fifth and sixth ribs. My breathing shortens, and my heart struggles to beat as her eye daggers rip through my flesh. "Sure, honey. What kind do you want?" I manage to force it out between painful breaths, overcoming my natural male tendencies. I'm unsmart, but I'm not that unsmart.
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