Normalish

We all have them. Often they are with lovers or family members. Mine is with food. I am constantly surprised that I don’t weigh 600lbs. I am overweight, for sure, but probably by only about 20-25lbs at most.

Sometimes, I do something in particular that really reminds me of this unhealthy relationship. The other night my wife made a batch of pumpkin cheesecake bars. After she was done making them she said, “I wonder if I should take these into work, or leave them here for us to eat.”

Well, I certainly knew which I wanted. I asked, “What was your plan?”

“To take them to work,” she replied.

“Well, I’ll give you 50 bucks for the whole batch.”

“How about $20 for half,” she countered.

Deal.

Often, I drink Vitamin Water with my lunch. And while the bottle does not indicate that any shaking is needed prior to consumption, I always shake it. Not sure why, but my intent behind the shaking is not of import.

Every time I enjoy a Vitamin Water with my lunch, I first pull it from a bag and set it on my desk.  Then, just before I drink it, I shake it, twist off the cap, and down it goes.

I have done this many, many times - always the same way.

For some reason, the other day, I took the cap off as soon as I took it out of the bag, but before I shook it. I then started to eat my lunch. About halfway through, I decided I needed a little something to wash down my food.  Remembering that I had not yet shaken my drink, but forgetting that I had already taken off the cap, I picked up the bottle and with wild abandon proceeded to shake it violently up and down. Thus, I threw Vitamin Water all over my self and my entire office.

I couldn’t have done a better job if I had tried.

You may have been expecting a story about an unbridled midday romp, but alas I am talking about television.

I watch Mtv’s The Real World. The other day around 4:40 I flipped to Mtv and there was The Real World. I quickly realized that this was new content, but I know the show is on at 10pm.  In the upper corner of the screen was a graphic that read “Afternoon Sneak.”

I then assumed that this was just a few minutes worth of the new episode as a teaser.  I kept watching, and it continued to play for the next 20 minutes. Turns out that this was the entire “new” episode, played at 4:30. This was no “sneak,” it was the actual new episode.

Don’t you think that the very first airing of a show should be considered “when it is on.” How can Mtv say that The Real World is on at 10pm, when it actually comes on first at 4:30pm.

A somewhat related TV phenomenon is the multi-episode premiere.  How does that work? A premiere is a one-time thing.  I have seen a two-night premiere - can you have a three-night premiere , a four-nighter?

I know this is a tiny point to make, but it really drives me crazy when marketers come up with this ridiculous stuff just to make things sound better.

So this is a bit late, but I need to know the answer for the future. I had no idea about the rivalry between Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays when wishing someone December related holiday cheer. I have found, that when you talk to some people they are as sensitive to it as if you were criticizing something near and dear to their hearts. So what is the answer? People who are Catholic and celebrate Christmas feel, for the most part, that it should Merry Christmas. However, those that celebrate other December Holidays (Hanukah, Kwanza, etc.), think Happy Holidays is the answer. At least that is how I draw the battle lines on this hotly contested saying. The weird thing is, does it really matter which you say, aren’t both suppose to be a person’s way of spreading good will. Instead if someone says Happy Holidays to someone who demands Merry Christmas, it has the opposite effect. I guess from now on instead of being nice and saying Happy Holidays or Merry Christmas, I will just say piss off!!!

I doubt you will see too many restaurant reviews on here, but Red Robin is kinda money. Hammer and I went there on a fake gay date and it was seriously good stuff. I had the Royal Red Robin burger which involves a fried egg. That might sound wierd, but it was amazing. And, they have all-you-can-eat french fries. Not bad, at all.

I was leaving work last night, going down the back stairs so as to avoid Art (aka: my stalker doorman) and just as I opened the door on the first floor I looked down the hall and out the side door. Who was standing there smoking a cigarette… Crazy Talker.

I literally looked back and forth down each hallway. One led to Art, and the other to Crazy Talker (previously here).

I had to act fast. At any moment Crazy Talker could finish his cigarette and come back inside. I made a split second decision. I would go with Art. While Art is a stalker, and latches onto your side as soon as you walk anywhere near him as if you both have high-powered magnets in your pockets, he is more easily subdued than Crazy Talker.

Crazy Talker will push through all of your defenses and just keep on going and going and going… Art doesn’t have that kind of drive. Art talks to you because he feels like he needs to. If he doesn’t he feels bad. He feels like he has no friends (which from what I have seen is most likely the case). But Crazy Talker, he is on a freakin’ mission. His goal in life is to talk. He won’t fail. He can’t fail.

Also, I can tell Art is a nice guy. If I am forced to grant one of these garrulous goons their ultimate wish I would prefer it be Art. So, I think I made the right decision. As was expected, Art pounced and let is akward chit-chat wash over me as I passed by. The goal at this point was keep on moving. Don’t stop, just keep going. It worked. I was outside and free from both Art and the Crazy Talker.

But don’t think I wasn’t considering the fact that Crazy Talker might have walked around to the front of the building. I did. Crazy Talker haunts my every move. I think of him anytime I am outside of our office suite. I may run into him anywhere, and he can not be stopped.

Crazy Talker, why have you foresaken me?

And by “a little,” I mean a lot. In fact, I’m pretty sure I am counting the precious days before my wife 86’s me. Most of my annoyances are aimed towards her. For instance:

I am a professional tickler. It is an unfortunate coincidence that my wife hates to be tickled. I can’t seem to help myself, and it drives her nuts. I had an uncle that use to tickle me silly (seriously, just tickling) and I think that got imprinted on me.

If I take a cold soda out of the fridge, and my wife is nearby, I will press it up against some of her exposed flesh. Or, if none is exposed, I am not above going under a shirt, or even down some pants.

I also “make things up” quite a bit. This is very similar to when I was a child and would tell my mother a whole big story I made up, just to say “psyche!” at the end.

I thought of this tonight, because I was performing another famous annoyance of mine which is to stick something (usually an inanimate object, but sometime my finger) down my wife’s pants if she has bent over. Tonight it was a pen, and I kept doing it ever time she bended forward from her seat on our couch. She of course objected from the very first violation, but I of course continued (I am “annoying” remember).

The last time, I got the pen pretty far down there. After pulling it out I realized there was some possibility it might smell. I smelled it, and everything seemed ok. I tried to get her to smell it, but she wasn’t having it. In fact she said, “Not only do I not want to smell the pen, but I would love it if I could bend over without you sticking something down there.”

I would have jumped at the chance to smell a pen that had just come out of my pants.

I have no idea what this all means, other than of course, that I am not normal.

This post I will admit is a stolen gem from one of my best friends. So for those of you that drink on the weekend or have had a few too many before in your life, have you ever noticed that the next morning you have an absurd amount of boogers in your nose. I mean it is ridiculous. Anyway, my friend use to say that those were all the dead brain cells killed from the night before. I still wonder if this is a possibility. Just a thought, not a sermon.

Blood’s most recent post made me think of a statement that I use to say when I was in my early twenties. I would always say that a good night on the weekends was when I had a “boob in your face and a butt in your hand.” Since then the statement has taken many different forms like “Butt in Face, Boob in hand,” etc. Well you get the gist. Anyway, next time someone says did you have a good weekend, think to yourself, “Did I have a boob in my face and a Butt in my hand.” An easy way to qualify it for yourself. Of course this only applies to our male contingent.

I’m waiting for the bus after work, talking to my wife on the phone, and a really cute girl comes jogging down the street.  So, while not staring at her, I do occasionally glance at her as she proceeds to jog up next to me (about 6 feet away). She then turns to face away from me and bends her body completely over to stretch (or tie her shoes, or whatever) and therefore essentially display her butt to me. I look.

I then tell my wife what just happened, and ask her if she is at all upset by this. She is not, but during my explanation of what has taken place, she asks me something like “can’t a woman jog down the street without getting ogled.”

“Of course she can,” I say, “but she can’t jog down the street in skin tight pants, and then walk in front of someone and bend over, and expect them not to look at her butt.”

I ask her if the situation was reversed, and some cute boy did the same thing in front of her, would she not look?  She claims… no. Allegedly, “chances are” she would not look.

I of course, call BS on this.

She is unmovable on the subject until I bump it up a notch and replace the “cute boy” with Orlando Bloom (she just described him as her #1 - not sure where that leaves me…). Well, in that case… she would look.

So I think this is much less about looking at someone’s arse, but more about the standards. She isn’t against looking at someone’s butt, but just wouldn’t care much unless the person was super double hot. Guys, unsurprisingly, aren’t quite this picky. Because, to be truthful, while this jogger was pretty cute, she is not even close to being on my list (which by the way, has “my wife” at #1).