Funny Guy Friday is written each week by my husband Mark. So... I married a funny guy...
Like most families, we have our normal Christmas traditions... like hunting for the perfect Christmas tree... attending Mass on Christmas Eve (or Christmas morning if Matthew happens to be serving)... putting up the outdoor lights... and watching our favorite Christmas movies.
However, some of our Christmas traditions are not so normal. For instance, every year, I announce that all shopping will be completed by December 23rd, and every year, we get up early on December 24th to run out to get "one last thing." That early morning shopping for that "one last gift" usually runs into the early afternoon, putting us behind schedule on the day's itinerary of DOING ABSOLUTELY NOTHING until we go to church and to dinner at our friends' home.
Usually, that one gift is something that our kids failed to mention the first twelve hundred times they recited what they wanted for Christmas and then failed to mention when they were sitting on Santa's lap. They bring it up on December 23rd just to irritate me.
Speaking of Santa, I am not sure how they do it, but the folks that run the Annapolis Mall have the real Santa Claus locked up under a lifelong service contract. They do not fool around with one of the "helpers" that you see on fire trucks in your local neighborhood or at the local Garden Store. Don't get me wrong, those guys are good, but my kids do not waste their energy asking for gifts from the fake Santas. Heck, they might as well be sitting on my lap asking for stuff for as much good it will do them.
Grace is sixteen years old and every Christmas picture of her for the past sixteen years is with the real Santa. I know he is the real Santa because he remembers us every year. And I don't mean the insincere hello that you get when people pretend to remember you. No sir, he gives us a hello, greets us by name and recalls the time we saw him during the big snow storm two years ago when we were the only ones in the mall. He had sat with us for more than thirty minutes that snowy day.
I love Santa, and I truly believe in his magical powers.
Anyway, as parents, we all know that Santa can't possibly bring everything on the list, so we pay careful attention when our kids rattle off the booty they hope to acquire on Christmas morning. We hope to hear mention of those deeply desired treasures so we can fill in Santa's gaps.
This year it was a little different because our kids had relatively small lists, and over time, Noah has devised a diabolical plan of asking Santa for one gift before politely adding, Plus whatever surprises that you want to bring me. Surprises! What surprises? Polite to a fault. He has deployed this strategy for three years now, and judging by the size of his Christmas pile, it seems to be working well.
Why can't he be obnoxious like every other kid and ask for everything under the sun. This does not happen often, but sometimes I wish Noah were more like his father than his mother.
Speaking of his mother, she has started her own tradition. About three days before Christmas, Cheryl will announce that she is way ahead of where I usually am this time of year. This announcement makes me very hopeful that she has done all the wrapping and we will get to bed at a decent hour. Alas, every year she has done no wrapping (usually because of the last minute, Christmas Eve shopping spree mentioned above). Santa has his elves to help out with the wrapping and Cheryl has me... the grouchy elf.
These late nights have given rise to one of my personal favorite traditions. In fact, this year, after we opened our gifts and had our Christmas breakfast, I sat on our couch with that far away look in my eyes. Cheryl asked what I was thinking. A bit embarrassed to be caught day dreaming I gave the usual response that men give... nothing.
You have to be thinking of something, she declares, as she snuggles up next to me, gently lifting my arm and placing it around her shoulder. Are you thinking about how Jesus came to us as a baby? Are you thinking about how great our kids are? Are you thinking about your family and Christmases from long ago? C'mon, 'weetie, tell me what were you thinking.
Well, I was thinking that I can't wait to get to your mom and dad's house so I can take my Christmas
nap on their white couch! That's it, that's all I was thinking!
I don't typically sleep when I go over to my in-laws, but I make an exception on Christmas. It is our last stop of the day, and by that time, I am just looking for a place to fall. I take my spot on the white couch while gifts are being exchanged and wait for the right time to doze off.
I have no shame. If the whole couch is available, I will lay down and take up the entire couch. If someone is next to me, I may just lay my head on his shoulder. This year it happened to be my brother-in-law's sister, whom I may see only three times a year or so. She is not even a blood relative, for crying out loud. She's not a relative by any definition of the word. I gave her fair warning but she didn't move. My conscience is clear.
And get this... I can actually open gifts while sleeping. This year, when we got in the car, I had to ask the kids if they were in the room when I opened my gift. I was trying to find out what Grammie gave me. I can't explain it except... it is a Christmas miracle!
I love that couch and I truly believe in it's magical powers!
Two final family traditions involve some old friends and some relatively new friends. Nothing really funny about the stories, but they both really capture the truly magical power of Christmas.
I grew up across the street from my best friend PJ. Every year, he and his wife invite us to share Christmas Eve dinner with their family. They prepare a feast that includes crab cakes, crab dip, a variety of cheese and crackers, Caesar salad, clams, muscles, oysters, and pasta. The meal is followed by a variety of Italian desserts.
This year, both of our mothers attended the dinner. Old friends and neighbors that probably have not seen each other in more than twenty years. A few years ago, I found an old picture of PJ and
me when we were maybe six and seven years old (I still remember the day that I found out that he was a year older than I. He received an invitation to kindergarten and I did not. One of the worst days of my life). I put the photo in a frame and I gave it to him as a gift.
During a break between food courses, PJ had everyone recall the best Christmas gift that they had ever received. I chose the lifesaver packages that I got every year growing up... and still get every year... from my best friend PJ. He told the group that the picture that he got from me was his favorite ... Although, he did manage to slip in a complaint that I had been wearing clean clothes that day, and he was in an old ratty shirt with dirt all over his face. What can I say? We grew up on different sides
of the tracks! Well, there really were no tracks; we just lived on the clean side of the street.
PJ has a seven-year-old son, and we have Noah, who is eight. Since our mothers were present, we took a picture with our sons and our mothers. Great idea for next year's gift.
The final family tradition involves our friends, Ken and Mary. Before Cheryl and I were married, I bought a house across the street from them. They were nice... kind of kept to themselves a bit. Then after Cheryl and I were married, we got to know them much better because... well, er uh... because Cheryl would actually talk to them. In retrospect, it could have been I that kept to myself. Anyway, we became great friends and every year, we make it a point to get together with them for dinner or lunch during the Christmas holiday. Including our three kids, Ken and Mary have three grand kids.
Here is the dirty little secret: they are not really our kids' grand parents. But please don't tell Ken and Mary because I would hate for them to treat my kids any differently than they do. In fact, they treat us all like we are one big family.
Mary may be the best gift wrapper in the world. She can get five outfits in a regular size box, and the box does not appear to be bursting at the seams. Lately, she has not been feeling all that great so she did not get out to shop for the usual five outfits per kid box. Instead, they gave the kids a greeting card with a Visa gift card inside. Noah excitedly exclaimed that they gave him their VISA credit card. I excitedly opened my gift, hoping for their American Express card.
I think that my kids do love all of our Christmas traditions, even the goofy ones. More importantly, they get the true meaning of Christmas. Noah can recite Linus's That's what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown speech, but more importantly, he understands it. When he heard someone complaining about the gift they received, he muttered that Christmas is not about what you get but about the King
of Kings.
Our kids love spending time with our family and our friends, and they love giving a gift as much as receiving one. They love the time that they spend at my brothers' and my in-laws on Christmas day. They love their time with Ken and Mary and the dinner with Mr. PJ's family. Every year, they ask the same questions... Are we going to see the Gossetts'?... Are we going to Mr. PJ's for dinner? Are we going to Uncle Jeff's? Are we going to Grammy and Grampy's?
Each year the answer is the same...Of course we are, it is a tradition.
I hope you all had a Merry and Blessed Christmas!
Friday, December 28, 2012
Friday, December 21, 2012
Funny Guy Friday... Shopping for Cheryl
Funny Guy Friday is written each week by my husband Mark. So... I married a funny guy...
Matthew and I just got home from a night out Christmas shopping for my beautiful wife. Two things are certain... the first is that Cheryl is so nice that no matter what you buy her, she will love it. The second is that she is impossible to shop for. Now these two certainties may seem a bit inconsistent, but I assure you, they are not.
Like any other husband, I try to look for clues as to what she may want or need. Sometimes this calls for a subtle approach. First thing I try to do is listen to the things she says when we are out shopping for other people. For instance, she recently had a new closet built in our bedroom. While in Target, she saw something that prompted her to say that I could buy her something to go in her closet. Sweet, I can buy her some hangers and we are good to go!
I thought that hangers was an odd request so I asked her Did you see some hangers?
She laughed at my question, despite the fact that I was not joking. Then it dawned on me that she must be talking about some clothes. Then I fake laughed. You know the laugh that you do when you want to save face when someone laughs at your serious, but obviously stupid question. Hee hee, of course not. So do you want a new dress or an outfit?
No, I need something for my underthings.
Now I was completely perplexed.
I saw some cute storage baskets that I can put my unmentionables in and then put the baskets in the closet.
Okay, not the greatest gift in the world but practical I suppose. I made a mental note of the baskets for a later date. But as usual, Cheryl giveth, and then Cheryl taketh away.
Of course, I would not want those baskets... I would want shabby chic!
Is there any male alive that would know what shabby chic is? I dare say, if there is, he would not admit it. Then she tried to explain it to me. My eyes glazed over and I was back to square one.
Once the subtle approach fails, I go to the less subtle approach... I ask, what do you want for Christmas?... Tell me. Tell me now!
You know what I like, just buy me something pretty.
This, of course, means absolutely nothing to me, but it is with this bit of information that Matthew and I set out on our shopping expedition.
Matthew and I have similar shopping strategies. We get settled in the car and ask each other, Where are we going to eat? Once we have the menu established, we map out our strategy.
Our first stop was Dick's Sporting Goods. Matthew correctly pointed out that there is nothing in that store that mom wants. This was true, but it accomplished two goals... it got us closer to Smoothie King and closer to a store that surely had the perfect gift for Cheryl.
After predictably striking out at Dick's, we headed over to Smoothie King and "the other store."
We each got a delicious strawberry/banana/papaya smoothie. We sipped our little treat while chatting it up with a very pretty Ravens cheerleader we met. We were then off to buy our first gift of the night. Unfortunately, we may have chatted it up a bit too much with the pretty cheerleader because when we got to the store, it was closed. Ninety minutes in and not a single gift.
Off to the mall.
First things first, Matthew and I agreed to grab a bite at Chipotle...but we agreed that this would be a victory meal after we found a few things for Cheryl. We started at one end of the mall, and we were not going to stop until we found the perfect gift. In the middle of our lap around the mall, it occurred to me that not only were there very few stores that have gifts for Cheryl, there are very few stores that Cheryl would ever step foot in. They either smell a thousand smells, which makes her sick to her stomach, or they lack the virtue of modesty which... makes her sick to her stomach.
[I think a side bar is needed at this time. When I write things like lacks the virtue of modesty, you know that I have been married to Cheryl for a long time. As you read on, you will also realize that despite our long marriage, I may be a bit more tolerant when it comes to the lack of the virtue of modesty.]
There is actually one particular store where young men stand half-naked in the doorway greeting guests. I thought that was something that you only saw on a sitcom mocking these kind of hipster stores. The sight of the naked boys prompted Matthew to recall a conversation that he had with his cousin, who pointed out that it is ironic that they stand outside the store half-naked in hopes of selling clothes.
Personally, I was thinking that if these guys get half-naked outside of their store, we should stroll on over to Victoria's Secret to see if their employees use a similar strategy to peddle their unmentionables, er uh, goods. Since I was with my twelve-year-old son, I could not actually make this suggestion. Even if I had, he would not have heard me because he had taken off in a full out sprint in the direction of Victoria's Secret. That's my boy. Merry Christmas, son.
Alas, we did not find a single gift for Cheryl, but all was not lost because we still had Chipotle waiting for us. Imagine our disappointment when the restaurant closed two minutes before our arrival. The night would have been a total disaster if not for the food court. We headed over to the Kabob Store and ordered us up a Gyro to go. It was a tasty finish to a very disappointing night of shopping,
We headed home, empty-handed, albeit with full tummies. As I lay in bed lamenting the night's results, Matthew came in our room and thanked me for a fun night. I guess we did meet a pretty cheerleader. We did pass Victoria's Secret. We did get some yummy smoothies and a delicious Gyro. Why, it wasn't a wasted night at all. My son and I had a great time.
Also, and please don't tell Cheryl this but... I also got some great ideas for gifts for her... gift certificates to Smoothie King and the Kabob Store. She can take Matthew.
These are gifts that I am certain that she will love.
Matthew and I just got home from a night out Christmas shopping for my beautiful wife. Two things are certain... the first is that Cheryl is so nice that no matter what you buy her, she will love it. The second is that she is impossible to shop for. Now these two certainties may seem a bit inconsistent, but I assure you, they are not.
Like any other husband, I try to look for clues as to what she may want or need. Sometimes this calls for a subtle approach. First thing I try to do is listen to the things she says when we are out shopping for other people. For instance, she recently had a new closet built in our bedroom. While in Target, she saw something that prompted her to say that I could buy her something to go in her closet. Sweet, I can buy her some hangers and we are good to go!
I thought that hangers was an odd request so I asked her Did you see some hangers?
She laughed at my question, despite the fact that I was not joking. Then it dawned on me that she must be talking about some clothes. Then I fake laughed. You know the laugh that you do when you want to save face when someone laughs at your serious, but obviously stupid question. Hee hee, of course not. So do you want a new dress or an outfit?
No, I need something for my underthings.
Now I was completely perplexed.
I saw some cute storage baskets that I can put my unmentionables in and then put the baskets in the closet.
Okay, not the greatest gift in the world but practical I suppose. I made a mental note of the baskets for a later date. But as usual, Cheryl giveth, and then Cheryl taketh away.
Of course, I would not want those baskets... I would want shabby chic!
Is there any male alive that would know what shabby chic is? I dare say, if there is, he would not admit it. Then she tried to explain it to me. My eyes glazed over and I was back to square one.
Once the subtle approach fails, I go to the less subtle approach... I ask, what do you want for Christmas?... Tell me. Tell me now!
You know what I like, just buy me something pretty.
This, of course, means absolutely nothing to me, but it is with this bit of information that Matthew and I set out on our shopping expedition.
Matthew and I have similar shopping strategies. We get settled in the car and ask each other, Where are we going to eat? Once we have the menu established, we map out our strategy.
Our first stop was Dick's Sporting Goods. Matthew correctly pointed out that there is nothing in that store that mom wants. This was true, but it accomplished two goals... it got us closer to Smoothie King and closer to a store that surely had the perfect gift for Cheryl.
After predictably striking out at Dick's, we headed over to Smoothie King and "the other store."
We each got a delicious strawberry/banana/papaya smoothie. We sipped our little treat while chatting it up with a very pretty Ravens cheerleader we met. We were then off to buy our first gift of the night. Unfortunately, we may have chatted it up a bit too much with the pretty cheerleader because when we got to the store, it was closed. Ninety minutes in and not a single gift.
Off to the mall.
First things first, Matthew and I agreed to grab a bite at Chipotle...but we agreed that this would be a victory meal after we found a few things for Cheryl. We started at one end of the mall, and we were not going to stop until we found the perfect gift. In the middle of our lap around the mall, it occurred to me that not only were there very few stores that have gifts for Cheryl, there are very few stores that Cheryl would ever step foot in. They either smell a thousand smells, which makes her sick to her stomach, or they lack the virtue of modesty which... makes her sick to her stomach.
[I think a side bar is needed at this time. When I write things like lacks the virtue of modesty, you know that I have been married to Cheryl for a long time. As you read on, you will also realize that despite our long marriage, I may be a bit more tolerant when it comes to the lack of the virtue of modesty.]
There is actually one particular store where young men stand half-naked in the doorway greeting guests. I thought that was something that you only saw on a sitcom mocking these kind of hipster stores. The sight of the naked boys prompted Matthew to recall a conversation that he had with his cousin, who pointed out that it is ironic that they stand outside the store half-naked in hopes of selling clothes.
Personally, I was thinking that if these guys get half-naked outside of their store, we should stroll on over to Victoria's Secret to see if their employees use a similar strategy to peddle their unmentionables, er uh, goods. Since I was with my twelve-year-old son, I could not actually make this suggestion. Even if I had, he would not have heard me because he had taken off in a full out sprint in the direction of Victoria's Secret. That's my boy. Merry Christmas, son.
Alas, we did not find a single gift for Cheryl, but all was not lost because we still had Chipotle waiting for us. Imagine our disappointment when the restaurant closed two minutes before our arrival. The night would have been a total disaster if not for the food court. We headed over to the Kabob Store and ordered us up a Gyro to go. It was a tasty finish to a very disappointing night of shopping,
We headed home, empty-handed, albeit with full tummies. As I lay in bed lamenting the night's results, Matthew came in our room and thanked me for a fun night. I guess we did meet a pretty cheerleader. We did pass Victoria's Secret. We did get some yummy smoothies and a delicious Gyro. Why, it wasn't a wasted night at all. My son and I had a great time.
Also, and please don't tell Cheryl this but... I also got some great ideas for gifts for her... gift certificates to Smoothie King and the Kabob Store. She can take Matthew.
These are gifts that I am certain that she will love.
Saturday, December 15, 2012
Funny Guy Friday... Sunday at the Christmas movie fest...
Funny Guy Friday is written each week by my husband Mark. So... I married a funny guy...
At Mass last Sunday, the priest began his homily by mentioning that, for some people, the meaning of today's Christmas season can be captured by a popular Christmas movie. The movie to which he was referring was, of course, Home Alone.
What's that, you say? How does Home Alone capture the meaning of today's Christmas season? In my opinion, Home Alone is the most violent movie ever made. Cheryl won't allow me to watch The Godfather with Matthew despite my argument that The Godfather is less violent than Home Alone.
The priest went on to explain that the family in the movie is so frantic running around getting ready to go away to celebrate Christmas, that they forget about their son. Today, some families are so frantic running around getting ready for the Christmas season that they forget about the Son. He spoke for another ten minutes and said some other stuff, but this is all I can remember.
Anyway, during the other ten forgettable minutes, I had some thoughts about other Christmas shows. I must say that I look at these shows with a much more discerning eye than when I was a kid. The following reviews are based on the candy cane scale, with one being "the equivalent of coal in your stocking," and five being "getting everything you want on your Christmas list."
The first classic Christmas story for review is Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. Imagine if they tried to make a movie called Rudolph the Jewish Reindeer and nobody would play with the kid in the yamaca; they could not make that movie in today's politically correct world. Another thing, let's get this right out of the way: Santa is a real jerk in this movie. His discriminatory actions would have resulted in an Equal Employment Opportunity lawsuit that would have brought his entire North Pole/Christmas empire to its knees.
Despite the fact that Rudolph is clearly the best flying reindeer competing at the reindeer games (hereinafter referred to as "the combine"), he is blackballed by his coach and reprimanded by both his father and his future father-in-law. I am assuming Rudolph and Clarice got married, but you never know if these mixed relationships ever really work out.
Because of his "deformity" Rudolph is exiled and eventually meets up with a smallish dentist who suffers a similar fate at the hands of his fellow elves. Personally, I do not think it is fair to compare Rudolph's rejection with that of Hermie because Hermie is annoying and deserves to be kicked out of elfin society. I digress.
The pair find themselves on an island with a bunch of misfit toys. Can somebody say internment camp?
After disposing of the North Pole's arch enemy, both Rudolph and Hermie are accepted back into society. Then, when Christmas is on the verge of being cancelled due to a dense fog, Santa has the audacity to ask Rudolph to lead the sleigh. Rudolph graciously agrees.
If it were me, I would have had a two word response for Old Saint Nick, and it would not have been Merry Christmas!
I give this Christmas movie two candy canes. This movie provides few likable characters. If not for the great soundtrack, this may have only gotten one candy cane.
The second classic for review is Santa Claus is Coming to Town. A baby is raised by Jingle Kringle, Bingle Kringle, and Dingle Kringle. Is it any wonder that each of these three short little fellas remained a single Kringle? Baby Kris Kringle grows up to become an outlaw who breaks into houses in order to leave toys for the kids of Somber Town. One disturbing moment occurs when Santa sings the following lyrics... "If you sit on my lap today, a kiss a toy is the price you pay." Okay, my kids are not hanging out with this guy anytime soon.
Somber Town is ruled by a mean man with the greatest name ever... Burgermeister Meisterburger. Fitting name for the leader of Somber Town. Seriously, would you move to a place called Somber Town?
Yeah, we were going to move to Depressionville or Down in the Dump Land before we found a
quaint little condo in Somber Town.
'Coming to Town does get us our first introduction to Mrs. Claus, the busty, former school marm named Jessica. Typically, I would not make a reference to her ample bosom... but it is distracting. Good thing too, because she has a totally forgettable, boring solo in the middle of the show that adds nothing to the story.
I give this Christmas classic three candy canes. Very informative and historically accurate as it gives the history of Santa, but at times, kind of boring... and at times, kind of creepy.
The final Christmas classic up for evaluation is The Year Without a Santa Claus. Once again, Santa is a bit of a disappointment as he laments the fact that... Nobody believes in me, Mama. It looks like... I'm gonna be canceling Christmas this year.
Nobody likes a whiny baby and nobody likes a man who calls his wife Mama. But with the help of Mrs. Claus and two idiot elves named Jingle and Jangle, Santa's faith in the children is restored and Christmas is saved.
Christmas was saved by the children's belief in Santa, and this movie was saved by the writer's belief in Mother Nature's children. Of course, I am talking about the Heat Miser and the Snow Miser. These two scene stealers give new meaning to sibling rivalry. Snow Miser is the cool brother that everyone loves, especially around Christmas time. Heat Miser struggles with his brother's popularity.
I am sure that Heat Miser gets tired of hearing about how great his brother is... how smart his brother is... what a great athlete his brother is... what a great coach his brother is... if only he could be "more like his brother." This is why I hate Jeff. Oh... wait... Did I just say I hate my older brother Jeff? I'm sorry... The Snow Miser... I meant to say that this is why I hate the Snow Miser.
Of the three shows, The Year is my favorite. Despite Santa's shaky start, he delivers, pardon the pun, in the end. I give this show four candy canes.
I hope that these reviews come in handy and that you all have the opportunity to sit back and enjoy the Christmas season.
Don't be frantic. Don't leave your kids home alone. And most importantly, try to stay focused at Mass.
At Mass last Sunday, the priest began his homily by mentioning that, for some people, the meaning of today's Christmas season can be captured by a popular Christmas movie. The movie to which he was referring was, of course, Home Alone.
What's that, you say? How does Home Alone capture the meaning of today's Christmas season? In my opinion, Home Alone is the most violent movie ever made. Cheryl won't allow me to watch The Godfather with Matthew despite my argument that The Godfather is less violent than Home Alone.
The priest went on to explain that the family in the movie is so frantic running around getting ready to go away to celebrate Christmas, that they forget about their son. Today, some families are so frantic running around getting ready for the Christmas season that they forget about the Son. He spoke for another ten minutes and said some other stuff, but this is all I can remember.
Anyway, during the other ten forgettable minutes, I had some thoughts about other Christmas shows. I must say that I look at these shows with a much more discerning eye than when I was a kid. The following reviews are based on the candy cane scale, with one being "the equivalent of coal in your stocking," and five being "getting everything you want on your Christmas list."
The first classic Christmas story for review is Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. Imagine if they tried to make a movie called Rudolph the Jewish Reindeer and nobody would play with the kid in the yamaca; they could not make that movie in today's politically correct world. Another thing, let's get this right out of the way: Santa is a real jerk in this movie. His discriminatory actions would have resulted in an Equal Employment Opportunity lawsuit that would have brought his entire North Pole/Christmas empire to its knees.
Despite the fact that Rudolph is clearly the best flying reindeer competing at the reindeer games (hereinafter referred to as "the combine"), he is blackballed by his coach and reprimanded by both his father and his future father-in-law. I am assuming Rudolph and Clarice got married, but you never know if these mixed relationships ever really work out.
Because of his "deformity" Rudolph is exiled and eventually meets up with a smallish dentist who suffers a similar fate at the hands of his fellow elves. Personally, I do not think it is fair to compare Rudolph's rejection with that of Hermie because Hermie is annoying and deserves to be kicked out of elfin society. I digress.
The pair find themselves on an island with a bunch of misfit toys. Can somebody say internment camp?
After disposing of the North Pole's arch enemy, both Rudolph and Hermie are accepted back into society. Then, when Christmas is on the verge of being cancelled due to a dense fog, Santa has the audacity to ask Rudolph to lead the sleigh. Rudolph graciously agrees.
If it were me, I would have had a two word response for Old Saint Nick, and it would not have been Merry Christmas!
I give this Christmas movie two candy canes. This movie provides few likable characters. If not for the great soundtrack, this may have only gotten one candy cane.
The second classic for review is Santa Claus is Coming to Town. A baby is raised by Jingle Kringle, Bingle Kringle, and Dingle Kringle. Is it any wonder that each of these three short little fellas remained a single Kringle? Baby Kris Kringle grows up to become an outlaw who breaks into houses in order to leave toys for the kids of Somber Town. One disturbing moment occurs when Santa sings the following lyrics... "If you sit on my lap today, a kiss a toy is the price you pay." Okay, my kids are not hanging out with this guy anytime soon.
Somber Town is ruled by a mean man with the greatest name ever... Burgermeister Meisterburger. Fitting name for the leader of Somber Town. Seriously, would you move to a place called Somber Town?
Yeah, we were going to move to Depressionville or Down in the Dump Land before we found a
quaint little condo in Somber Town.
'Coming to Town does get us our first introduction to Mrs. Claus, the busty, former school marm named Jessica. Typically, I would not make a reference to her ample bosom... but it is distracting. Good thing too, because she has a totally forgettable, boring solo in the middle of the show that adds nothing to the story.
I give this Christmas classic three candy canes. Very informative and historically accurate as it gives the history of Santa, but at times, kind of boring... and at times, kind of creepy.
The final Christmas classic up for evaluation is The Year Without a Santa Claus. Once again, Santa is a bit of a disappointment as he laments the fact that... Nobody believes in me, Mama. It looks like... I'm gonna be canceling Christmas this year.
Nobody likes a whiny baby and nobody likes a man who calls his wife Mama. But with the help of Mrs. Claus and two idiot elves named Jingle and Jangle, Santa's faith in the children is restored and Christmas is saved.
Christmas was saved by the children's belief in Santa, and this movie was saved by the writer's belief in Mother Nature's children. Of course, I am talking about the Heat Miser and the Snow Miser. These two scene stealers give new meaning to sibling rivalry. Snow Miser is the cool brother that everyone loves, especially around Christmas time. Heat Miser struggles with his brother's popularity.
I am sure that Heat Miser gets tired of hearing about how great his brother is... how smart his brother is... what a great athlete his brother is... what a great coach his brother is... if only he could be "more like his brother." This is why I hate Jeff. Oh... wait... Did I just say I hate my older brother Jeff? I'm sorry... The Snow Miser... I meant to say that this is why I hate the Snow Miser.
Of the three shows, The Year is my favorite. Despite Santa's shaky start, he delivers, pardon the pun, in the end. I give this show four candy canes.
I hope that these reviews come in handy and that you all have the opportunity to sit back and enjoy the Christmas season.
Don't be frantic. Don't leave your kids home alone. And most importantly, try to stay focused at Mass.
Friday, December 7, 2012
Funny Guy Friday... The common thread...
Funny Guy Friday is written each week by my husband Mark. So... I married a funny guy...
Two things happened this week, and although they are completely unrelated, they have a common thread.
The first thing actually began about three months ago, when I walked by our receptionist, Jeannae, and noticed that she was looking at wedding websites. I knew she was dating a guy. In fact, I met him a time or two, but I was pretty sure that they had not been dating long enough to get engaged.
I'll remind you that I had only dated Cheryl for six weeks when I asked her to marry me, but I would not suggest that anyone else take such drastic measures. Although it worked out, and I would not change a thing, it was an act of idiocy.
Anyway, I asked Jeannae why she would be casing wedding websites (during work hours, no less), and she mentioned that she had gotten engaged... about two months prior.
How did I miss that? I pride myself on keeping up with my co-workers. We are a relatively small business, with about fourteen employees, so I really shouldn't miss an engagement. That's kind of a big deal.
Fast forward to last week, and she was not at work on Monday or Tuesday. When I asked my secretary if she were sick, I was informed that she had gotten married over the weekend, and was enjoying her honeymoon.
How did I miss that? Seriously, I missed her engagement and now I missed her wedding. I told my secretary that it must have been a small wedding because, well, because I was not invited. My secretary advised that it was not that small; in fact, she had a great time. Ouch!
How did this happen? How did I miss her wedding? More importantly, why would I not score an invite? Perhaps if I had been aware that she had gotten engaged, she might have invited me to the wedding. You'd have thought that she would have forgiven that little oversight. Apparently not!
She must think that I am an idiot.
Anyway, she was back in the office this past week, and just to show what a good sport I am, I went in to greet her and tell her congratulations. In fact, I plan on getting her a nice wedding gift.
She and her husband honeymooned in Williamsburg, Virginia, and saw all the sights... and ate at all of the old colonial restaurants.
I thought about the time that Cheryl and I took the kids to a restaurant in Williamsburg, and the hostess, dressed completely in authentic colonial garb, approached our table and struck up a conversation. She told us that she has one dress... this dress... that her husband had made... and that he works nearly sixteen hours a day to provide food and shelter for their family. I was amazed by her story and thought it was both inspiring and a bit sad that they had such a hard life.
As we left the restaurant, then-eleven-year-old Matthew mentioned that it was very cool the way that the hostess stayed in character the entire night.
In character? Wait a second, you mean that whole "my husband made my only dress and he works sixteen hours a day blah blah blah" thing was just an act? I thought that she was serious about all that stuff. I told her how impressed I was with that whole "woe is me" junk! I am such an idiot.
The second thing that happened this week actually started last Christmas, when my old tree stand broke. I hated that stand because it didn't actually keep the tree standing upright, as the name tree stand would imply. I think that that is the least you can expect from a tree stand, you know? I vowed to get the best tree stand that money could buy for this Christmas season.
My research was extensive, and it all led to the Grinnen's Last Stand. From the photos, it looked like a cross between a tree stand and a medieval torture chamber. It has spikes, ratchets and straps. I think that any tree would be afraid to fall.
I placed my order and waited the two business days for delivery. The timing would have been perfect. I ordered it on a Wednesday, and we were supposed to get our tree on Sunday. Friday arrival and all would have been right with the world.
Then I got the email from UPS advising that the stand was shipped on Thursday and would not arrive until Monday. Who knew that Saturday was not a business day? I called UPS and pointed out that I have seen their brown trucks on Saturdays, and I really wanted to get my Christmas tree on Sunday. And I really needed that stand.
They pointed out that those people are paying extra for that Saturday delivery, and I am really not going to get my stand until Monday.
Defeated, I set my sights on Monday. I had court in Annapolis, so I got home early and the wait was on. Every vehicle that came roaring down our street had me craning my neck to see if it were the UPS truck. Vehicle after vehicle passed with no delivery. Do you know how much a school bus sounds like a UPS truck? Very much. Too much.
I was like a little kid waiting for a new toy to be delivered. As I tell the story it is kind of embarrassing. The good news is that the stand did arrive late Monday night, and we got our tree up in a matter of minutes.
The stand is awesome.
So, here we have two seemingly unrelated stories... and you are probably wondering how are they connected. Well, in both stories, there are numerous examples of me being kind of silly... kind of childish... and frankly, acting like an idiot. That, of course, is not the common thread.
No. The thing that brings these two stories together is this:
I think that I am going to buy Jeannae a new tree stand as a wedding present.
What do you think?
Two things happened this week, and although they are completely unrelated, they have a common thread.
The first thing actually began about three months ago, when I walked by our receptionist, Jeannae, and noticed that she was looking at wedding websites. I knew she was dating a guy. In fact, I met him a time or two, but I was pretty sure that they had not been dating long enough to get engaged.
I'll remind you that I had only dated Cheryl for six weeks when I asked her to marry me, but I would not suggest that anyone else take such drastic measures. Although it worked out, and I would not change a thing, it was an act of idiocy.
Anyway, I asked Jeannae why she would be casing wedding websites (during work hours, no less), and she mentioned that she had gotten engaged... about two months prior.
How did I miss that? I pride myself on keeping up with my co-workers. We are a relatively small business, with about fourteen employees, so I really shouldn't miss an engagement. That's kind of a big deal.
Fast forward to last week, and she was not at work on Monday or Tuesday. When I asked my secretary if she were sick, I was informed that she had gotten married over the weekend, and was enjoying her honeymoon.
How did I miss that? Seriously, I missed her engagement and now I missed her wedding. I told my secretary that it must have been a small wedding because, well, because I was not invited. My secretary advised that it was not that small; in fact, she had a great time. Ouch!
How did this happen? How did I miss her wedding? More importantly, why would I not score an invite? Perhaps if I had been aware that she had gotten engaged, she might have invited me to the wedding. You'd have thought that she would have forgiven that little oversight. Apparently not!
She must think that I am an idiot.
Anyway, she was back in the office this past week, and just to show what a good sport I am, I went in to greet her and tell her congratulations. In fact, I plan on getting her a nice wedding gift.
She and her husband honeymooned in Williamsburg, Virginia, and saw all the sights... and ate at all of the old colonial restaurants.
I thought about the time that Cheryl and I took the kids to a restaurant in Williamsburg, and the hostess, dressed completely in authentic colonial garb, approached our table and struck up a conversation. She told us that she has one dress... this dress... that her husband had made... and that he works nearly sixteen hours a day to provide food and shelter for their family. I was amazed by her story and thought it was both inspiring and a bit sad that they had such a hard life.
As we left the restaurant, then-eleven-year-old Matthew mentioned that it was very cool the way that the hostess stayed in character the entire night.
In character? Wait a second, you mean that whole "my husband made my only dress and he works sixteen hours a day blah blah blah" thing was just an act? I thought that she was serious about all that stuff. I told her how impressed I was with that whole "woe is me" junk! I am such an idiot.
The second thing that happened this week actually started last Christmas, when my old tree stand broke. I hated that stand because it didn't actually keep the tree standing upright, as the name tree stand would imply. I think that that is the least you can expect from a tree stand, you know? I vowed to get the best tree stand that money could buy for this Christmas season.
My research was extensive, and it all led to the Grinnen's Last Stand. From the photos, it looked like a cross between a tree stand and a medieval torture chamber. It has spikes, ratchets and straps. I think that any tree would be afraid to fall.
I placed my order and waited the two business days for delivery. The timing would have been perfect. I ordered it on a Wednesday, and we were supposed to get our tree on Sunday. Friday arrival and all would have been right with the world.
Then I got the email from UPS advising that the stand was shipped on Thursday and would not arrive until Monday. Who knew that Saturday was not a business day? I called UPS and pointed out that I have seen their brown trucks on Saturdays, and I really wanted to get my Christmas tree on Sunday. And I really needed that stand.
They pointed out that those people are paying extra for that Saturday delivery, and I am really not going to get my stand until Monday.
Defeated, I set my sights on Monday. I had court in Annapolis, so I got home early and the wait was on. Every vehicle that came roaring down our street had me craning my neck to see if it were the UPS truck. Vehicle after vehicle passed with no delivery. Do you know how much a school bus sounds like a UPS truck? Very much. Too much.
I was like a little kid waiting for a new toy to be delivered. As I tell the story it is kind of embarrassing. The good news is that the stand did arrive late Monday night, and we got our tree up in a matter of minutes.
The stand is awesome.
So, here we have two seemingly unrelated stories... and you are probably wondering how are they connected. Well, in both stories, there are numerous examples of me being kind of silly... kind of childish... and frankly, acting like an idiot. That, of course, is not the common thread.
No. The thing that brings these two stories together is this:
I think that I am going to buy Jeannae a new tree stand as a wedding present.
What do you think?
Friday, November 30, 2012
Funny Guy Friday… Friday night lights...
Every year, the Friday after Thanksgiving is the day that I begin to put up my outdoor Christmas lights.
This year was no different.
Each year, my wife and kids tell me that they don't care how I do the lights. Do whatever you want, they say. Of course, when I tell them what I am going to do, they tell me why my idea is a bad one. Sort of like when you ask someone where they want to go and eat and they say they don't care. Then they proceed to shoot down every restaurant idea that you suggest.
This year, I decided to change things up a bit, and I put Noah in charge of our outdoor illumination. Whatever he wanted, we would do.
Noah wanted color, and he wanted lots of color.
No problem. Over the years, I have accumulated a smorgasbord of lights. I have white strands, red strands, and green strands.
I even have purple strands.
That was the year everyone thought we were big Ravens fans. My wife got tired of explaining to our heathen neighbors that the purple had to do with the Advent season and not the football season. Although, now that the Redskins have RG3, burgundy and gold would be sweet for next year!
As I got the lights out of the attic to test them, Cheryl put on the old Christmas family favorite, Santa Claus is Coming to Town. Two minutes into the show, Cheryl was asleep and Grace and Matthew had their noses in the iPads. This left just Noah and me, and this was pretty much how it went all weekend.
It used to be that Matthew was always by my side, Noah was always with Cheryl, and Grace was in her bedroom skyping her cousin.
I used to say that if Cheryl and I ever got a divorce, Matthew would live with me, Noah would live with Cheryl, and Grace would go to a friend's house. Not so much anymore. In the immortal words of Sally Field: Noah likes me, he really really likes me. After the divorce, I suppose that we will have to flip a coin for Noah.
As I tested the lights, I quickly learned that many of them were not working. I know there is a simple explanation, but I just don't get the electrical design that allows one bad light to burn out an entire strand... or better yet, when half the strand works and the other half is out.
Frustrated, I decided to get rid of all my old lights and buy all new lights. In the morning, Noah and I were headed to Home Depot. Noah was excited because this meant we were going to buy new colored lights. Cheryl was nervous because it meant that I was going to buy new colored lights. Cheryl knows that I love Christmas lights.
I assured her that I would be frugal and that I would not waste any money on unnecessary Christmas decorations. I reassured her that Noah would be with me the whole time.
Cheryl was not impressed with my choice of chaperones. She reminded me that I was a responsible adult and emphasized that under no circumstance could we have a blow up Santa Claus in our front yard. I never intended to buy a blow up Santa Claus… a blow up Snoopy Christmas Dog House maybe, but not a Santa Claus.
Noah and I headed out on our mission bright and early. Of course, we had to get breakfast first. Then we had to buy him some new basketball shoes. Eventually, we made it to the Home Depot.
Ooooh, the lights!!! Ooooh, the pretty lights!!!
We took a quick inventory. There were many options and we only had one shot at this. If we got home and had made a mistake, Cheryl would go back with us and make us return everything and start all over again… with her at our side.
I could tell that Noah was nervous, but I assured him that I out-rank Mom. He was not convinced. I reminded him that if it ever came down to a fist fight, I would win. He felt better about that.
The shopping spree was on. We carefully chose several boxes of multi-colored mini LED lights for the bushes, medium sized LED lights for the trees, and large LED lights for the gutters. We also got more multi-colored and white mini lights for our Christmas tree. Lots of lights.
You know, the nice thing about when we had pre-school kids was that they couldn't count. Noah is getting older and not only can he count, he can add. He was nervously staring at the cart full of lights, and he had a worried look on his face. Dad, we are spending over $200 on lights.
Like the Grinch, I thought up a lie and I thought it up quick. Don't worry Noah, as I patted his head. Mommy gave us a $300 budget, so we are not even close to spending all of our money.
Then we turned to leave... and that's when we saw it.
The whole store went dark, and a light shined on this six and a half foot three-wreath structure that would look perfect right by our front door. It had lights! It was beautiful! I loved it. Noah loved it. Cheryl will love it.....I think.
But, dad, it is $100. This will put us over our budget thing.
No, I think it is on sale, for only $89. We are good! Let's get it in the cart. Now remember, we don't have to tell Mom about the cost of things. The important thing is that we bought all these things and we stayed under our budget.
We had spent the entire morning bonding, not like father to son, but like man to man. I was confident that what happened at Home Depot would stay at Home Depot. As we pulled up in our driveway, I reminded Noah of our unspoken deal (to be honest, I may have spoken it a time or two) as he headed in the house. I stopped to grab the bags of lights. I entered the kitchen and was confronted by Cheryl as Noah dashed past me.
You spent $300 on lights?
What, what are you talking about? No... Of course not... No, no we did not… We got a big light up wreath thingy too… It lit up… I think you will like it… I got it for you! Noah, can I talk to you?
Unbelievable. He caved in less than three seconds. After all we did together, he caved at the first sight of his mother. Worse, she did not like our wreath thing. We had to take it back.
So Noah and I headed back to the Home Depot. After we made the return, we did go back to the Christmas section and found some three foot tall nutcrackers for only $40 each.
Hey, Noah do you know what 89 minus 80 is?
Nine.
If we buy two of these, we will save $9. What do you think? ...By the way, Mom will not understand the whole math thing, so let's just keep that to ourselves, okay!
The nutcrackers look awesome guarding our front door.
Great job, Noah.
This year was no different.
Each year, my wife and kids tell me that they don't care how I do the lights. Do whatever you want, they say. Of course, when I tell them what I am going to do, they tell me why my idea is a bad one. Sort of like when you ask someone where they want to go and eat and they say they don't care. Then they proceed to shoot down every restaurant idea that you suggest.
This year, I decided to change things up a bit, and I put Noah in charge of our outdoor illumination. Whatever he wanted, we would do.
Noah wanted color, and he wanted lots of color.
No problem. Over the years, I have accumulated a smorgasbord of lights. I have white strands, red strands, and green strands.
I even have purple strands.
That was the year everyone thought we were big Ravens fans. My wife got tired of explaining to our heathen neighbors that the purple had to do with the Advent season and not the football season. Although, now that the Redskins have RG3, burgundy and gold would be sweet for next year!
As I got the lights out of the attic to test them, Cheryl put on the old Christmas family favorite, Santa Claus is Coming to Town. Two minutes into the show, Cheryl was asleep and Grace and Matthew had their noses in the iPads. This left just Noah and me, and this was pretty much how it went all weekend.
It used to be that Matthew was always by my side, Noah was always with Cheryl, and Grace was in her bedroom skyping her cousin.
I used to say that if Cheryl and I ever got a divorce, Matthew would live with me, Noah would live with Cheryl, and Grace would go to a friend's house. Not so much anymore. In the immortal words of Sally Field: Noah likes me, he really really likes me. After the divorce, I suppose that we will have to flip a coin for Noah.
As I tested the lights, I quickly learned that many of them were not working. I know there is a simple explanation, but I just don't get the electrical design that allows one bad light to burn out an entire strand... or better yet, when half the strand works and the other half is out.
Frustrated, I decided to get rid of all my old lights and buy all new lights. In the morning, Noah and I were headed to Home Depot. Noah was excited because this meant we were going to buy new colored lights. Cheryl was nervous because it meant that I was going to buy new colored lights. Cheryl knows that I love Christmas lights.
I assured her that I would be frugal and that I would not waste any money on unnecessary Christmas decorations. I reassured her that Noah would be with me the whole time.
Cheryl was not impressed with my choice of chaperones. She reminded me that I was a responsible adult and emphasized that under no circumstance could we have a blow up Santa Claus in our front yard. I never intended to buy a blow up Santa Claus… a blow up Snoopy Christmas Dog House maybe, but not a Santa Claus.
Noah and I headed out on our mission bright and early. Of course, we had to get breakfast first. Then we had to buy him some new basketball shoes. Eventually, we made it to the Home Depot.
Ooooh, the lights!!! Ooooh, the pretty lights!!!
We took a quick inventory. There were many options and we only had one shot at this. If we got home and had made a mistake, Cheryl would go back with us and make us return everything and start all over again… with her at our side.
I could tell that Noah was nervous, but I assured him that I out-rank Mom. He was not convinced. I reminded him that if it ever came down to a fist fight, I would win. He felt better about that.
The shopping spree was on. We carefully chose several boxes of multi-colored mini LED lights for the bushes, medium sized LED lights for the trees, and large LED lights for the gutters. We also got more multi-colored and white mini lights for our Christmas tree. Lots of lights.
You know, the nice thing about when we had pre-school kids was that they couldn't count. Noah is getting older and not only can he count, he can add. He was nervously staring at the cart full of lights, and he had a worried look on his face. Dad, we are spending over $200 on lights.
Like the Grinch, I thought up a lie and I thought it up quick. Don't worry Noah, as I patted his head. Mommy gave us a $300 budget, so we are not even close to spending all of our money.
Then we turned to leave... and that's when we saw it.
The whole store went dark, and a light shined on this six and a half foot three-wreath structure that would look perfect right by our front door. It had lights! It was beautiful! I loved it. Noah loved it. Cheryl will love it.....I think.
But, dad, it is $100. This will put us over our budget thing.
No, I think it is on sale, for only $89. We are good! Let's get it in the cart. Now remember, we don't have to tell Mom about the cost of things. The important thing is that we bought all these things and we stayed under our budget.
We had spent the entire morning bonding, not like father to son, but like man to man. I was confident that what happened at Home Depot would stay at Home Depot. As we pulled up in our driveway, I reminded Noah of our unspoken deal (to be honest, I may have spoken it a time or two) as he headed in the house. I stopped to grab the bags of lights. I entered the kitchen and was confronted by Cheryl as Noah dashed past me.
You spent $300 on lights?
What, what are you talking about? No... Of course not... No, no we did not… We got a big light up wreath thingy too… It lit up… I think you will like it… I got it for you! Noah, can I talk to you?
Unbelievable. He caved in less than three seconds. After all we did together, he caved at the first sight of his mother. Worse, she did not like our wreath thing. We had to take it back.
So Noah and I headed back to the Home Depot. After we made the return, we did go back to the Christmas section and found some three foot tall nutcrackers for only $40 each.
Hey, Noah do you know what 89 minus 80 is?
Nine.
If we buy two of these, we will save $9. What do you think? ...By the way, Mom will not understand the whole math thing, so let's just keep that to ourselves, okay!
The nutcrackers look awesome guarding our front door.
Great job, Noah.
Saturday, November 24, 2012
Funny Guy Friday... Thanksgiving with the family...
It is Thanksgiving night and I am lying in bed contemplating the wonderful times we have had over the past few days and the times that lie ahead of us this coming weekend.
My sister, Michel and her family are in from Texas and Cheryl's sisters Sue and Ann are in from Washington and New Jersey. In my humble opinion, Thanksgiving is the best holiday of the year. There are no gifts to buy, very little decorating, NFL games on TV, and four days to catch up with family. Sure, you have to cook but you have to eat no matter what day it is, so why not go big one day of the year.
I love my family. I love Cheryl's family. I love spending time with all of them. Family is what it is all about. What could possibly make the weekend better?
I know... I have a great idea... they could all go home!
That's right. Go home. Every last one of you. I haven't slept and I am exhausted.
My brother in law and my two nieces just arrived in town yesterday and I only got to visit with them for a short time. I have one request of them... get back on the plane and go back to Houston. I love you, but I will catch up with you some other time. I'm tired.
Let me explain. Our house is like a flop house. I have no idea who is coming or who is going. There have been different people at our house for four straight days and if people aren't spending the night, they are here anyway.
Sue was the first to arrive on Saturday. We met her at Cheryl's mom's house that evening. A very nice visit that eased us into the holiday week. When we got home... near midnight... Cheryl advised that her entire family was coming over to our house the next day for a chili dinner. But we just saw them. She will be here all week. We have a lot to do!
Cheryl's response was typical: Nah, we'll be fine. I always pull the house together.
This is true, but I reminded my dear wife that she had to pick up my sister Michel at the airport on Monday, she had to take my mother to the doctor, and she had to homeschool (oh yes, you read that right, class is in through Wednesday. I run a tight academic ship). Oh, and by the way, we are hosting my family.....fifty of my family... on Thursday for Thanksgiving dinner, so we have to get the house ready. Time is of the essence.
I know, she assured me, I got it! We will be fine.
Sunday arrived and so did Cheryl's two sisters, their kids, her brother and her mom and dad. I had spent the day with Cheryl and our kids getting our basement squared away before they all arrived. We had a lovely visit and some delicious chili. They spent the evening with us and left at about 9 p.m. I was pretty tired and was relaxing while watching the Ravens game. Cheryl noticed I was relaxing when she thought it was appropriate to "remind" me that I still needed to paint the inside of our new closet because the workers were coming to put the doors on Monday morning.
You never told me that. I am ready for bed.
I did tell you that.
No way, I would remember that. If we have so much to do, perhaps the family could have come another time. Grace... did mom tell me I had to paint the closet before Monday?
Yes, she did.
Gracie, you are a big fat liar!
I am not exactly sure why Grace would conspire against me like this, but she did. She must have done something wrong and her mother was holding it over her head. I have had this theory for a long time now, but I have no hard proof... just a lot of anecdotal evidence such as this.
Now you may have noticed that I asked Grace and not Noah or Matthew. You see, they were gone. They left for a sleepover at Grammy's with their cousins. It appears that the rats were running off of my tight academic ship. I was informed that school was officially closed for Thanksgiving break.
Anyway, I am not one to stand in the way of a household project, so I got my brush and my roller and grabbed a gallon of paint from the basement and headed into the new closet. Two hours later, after, admittedly, the worst paint job in the world, I called it a day. What the heck, it is a closet for goodness sake and I have to go to work in the morning.
You are going to do a second coat, aren't you? And you are going to paint the ceiling, aren't you? The job foreman was a real taskmaster.
It's a closet. No, I am not. Don't ask me again, I am not doing it.
I finished the second coat and the ceiling at 2 a.m.
While at work on Monday, Cheryl called me on her way to the airport to inform me that the work
crew had not yet arrived and she asked that I investigate. When I spoke to our handyman, I was advised
that the store ordered the wrong size doors. I think they will be coming some time next week to finish the job, but I am not sure because I dozed off in the middle of the conversation. It may have had something to do with the late night painting that I did so they could HANG THE DOORS!
On the way home from work, Cheryl called to tell me that both my sister Michel and her sister Sue
were both staying for pizza. This was unprecedented... we were combining families for visits... while the clock keeps ticking. Great, but we still need to get the house ready for Thursday.
No problem. We will be fine.
Cheryl says that a lot to me.
She had a plan to send each of our kids out for sleepovers with various cousins and we would be home alone. I liked this idea. This was an encouraging turn of events. I have not been home alone with my beautiful wife with no kids in more than sixteen years. This was a VERY encouraging turn of events. Think about this, we had no kids to interrupt us while we... ahem... cleaned the house and rearranged the furniture.
I wish I could throw some quotation marks around cleaned the house and rearranged the furniture, but we actually did clean the house and rearrange the furniture. That's right boys and girls, we were up until 2 a.m. cleaning and rearranging, with no quotation marks. It was great... exhausting, but great.
I got up for work on Wednesday, bleary eyed. I did take a half day so I could get home and help with the final preparations before the crowd descended on our home. These preparations were interrupted by both of Cheryl's sisters who dropped by at various times with various kids. Some, I think were mine, but I was not sure who belonged where at this point. We were invited to go out to dinner and despite my concerns, we took the kids out to Red Robin at the mall.
Relax, we will be fine. It will all get done. Guess who!
We had another great time, but I am not going to lie, it was a set back. Another late night. I got to bed after 1:30 a.m. and had to get up early to buy the donuts for the annual family Turkey Bowl football game.
My team lost, and we lost, in large part, to my exhaustion. You cannot hoot with the owls at
night and soar with the eagles in the morning.
Now it is 1 a.m, and I am typing this Funny Guy Friday after hosting the Thanksgiving feast. Guess what... we were fine. We got it all done. And dinner was a success.
Cheryl has got to learn to relax.
I am so thankful for so many things, but our families are at the top of the list. In reality, I would not change a single thing about this week except maybe spending even more time with everybody. Don't believe me? Cheryl's family, all twenty five of them, are coming over for leftovers tomorrow, er, uh, today.
I hope you all had a chance to spend some time with your loved ones and had a happy and blessed Thanksgiving.
But for now... I gotta get some sleep. I'm exhausted. Good night.
My sister, Michel and her family are in from Texas and Cheryl's sisters Sue and Ann are in from Washington and New Jersey. In my humble opinion, Thanksgiving is the best holiday of the year. There are no gifts to buy, very little decorating, NFL games on TV, and four days to catch up with family. Sure, you have to cook but you have to eat no matter what day it is, so why not go big one day of the year.
I love my family. I love Cheryl's family. I love spending time with all of them. Family is what it is all about. What could possibly make the weekend better?
I know... I have a great idea... they could all go home!
That's right. Go home. Every last one of you. I haven't slept and I am exhausted.
My brother in law and my two nieces just arrived in town yesterday and I only got to visit with them for a short time. I have one request of them... get back on the plane and go back to Houston. I love you, but I will catch up with you some other time. I'm tired.
Let me explain. Our house is like a flop house. I have no idea who is coming or who is going. There have been different people at our house for four straight days and if people aren't spending the night, they are here anyway.
Sue was the first to arrive on Saturday. We met her at Cheryl's mom's house that evening. A very nice visit that eased us into the holiday week. When we got home... near midnight... Cheryl advised that her entire family was coming over to our house the next day for a chili dinner. But we just saw them. She will be here all week. We have a lot to do!
Cheryl's response was typical: Nah, we'll be fine. I always pull the house together.
This is true, but I reminded my dear wife that she had to pick up my sister Michel at the airport on Monday, she had to take my mother to the doctor, and she had to homeschool (oh yes, you read that right, class is in through Wednesday. I run a tight academic ship). Oh, and by the way, we are hosting my family.....fifty of my family... on Thursday for Thanksgiving dinner, so we have to get the house ready. Time is of the essence.
I know, she assured me, I got it! We will be fine.
Sunday arrived and so did Cheryl's two sisters, their kids, her brother and her mom and dad. I had spent the day with Cheryl and our kids getting our basement squared away before they all arrived. We had a lovely visit and some delicious chili. They spent the evening with us and left at about 9 p.m. I was pretty tired and was relaxing while watching the Ravens game. Cheryl noticed I was relaxing when she thought it was appropriate to "remind" me that I still needed to paint the inside of our new closet because the workers were coming to put the doors on Monday morning.
You never told me that. I am ready for bed.
I did tell you that.
No way, I would remember that. If we have so much to do, perhaps the family could have come another time. Grace... did mom tell me I had to paint the closet before Monday?
Yes, she did.
Gracie, you are a big fat liar!
I am not exactly sure why Grace would conspire against me like this, but she did. She must have done something wrong and her mother was holding it over her head. I have had this theory for a long time now, but I have no hard proof... just a lot of anecdotal evidence such as this.
Now you may have noticed that I asked Grace and not Noah or Matthew. You see, they were gone. They left for a sleepover at Grammy's with their cousins. It appears that the rats were running off of my tight academic ship. I was informed that school was officially closed for Thanksgiving break.
Anyway, I am not one to stand in the way of a household project, so I got my brush and my roller and grabbed a gallon of paint from the basement and headed into the new closet. Two hours later, after, admittedly, the worst paint job in the world, I called it a day. What the heck, it is a closet for goodness sake and I have to go to work in the morning.
You are going to do a second coat, aren't you? And you are going to paint the ceiling, aren't you? The job foreman was a real taskmaster.
It's a closet. No, I am not. Don't ask me again, I am not doing it.
I finished the second coat and the ceiling at 2 a.m.
While at work on Monday, Cheryl called me on her way to the airport to inform me that the work
crew had not yet arrived and she asked that I investigate. When I spoke to our handyman, I was advised
that the store ordered the wrong size doors. I think they will be coming some time next week to finish the job, but I am not sure because I dozed off in the middle of the conversation. It may have had something to do with the late night painting that I did so they could HANG THE DOORS!
On the way home from work, Cheryl called to tell me that both my sister Michel and her sister Sue
were both staying for pizza. This was unprecedented... we were combining families for visits... while the clock keeps ticking. Great, but we still need to get the house ready for Thursday.
No problem. We will be fine.
Cheryl says that a lot to me.
She had a plan to send each of our kids out for sleepovers with various cousins and we would be home alone. I liked this idea. This was an encouraging turn of events. I have not been home alone with my beautiful wife with no kids in more than sixteen years. This was a VERY encouraging turn of events. Think about this, we had no kids to interrupt us while we... ahem... cleaned the house and rearranged the furniture.
I wish I could throw some quotation marks around cleaned the house and rearranged the furniture, but we actually did clean the house and rearrange the furniture. That's right boys and girls, we were up until 2 a.m. cleaning and rearranging, with no quotation marks. It was great... exhausting, but great.
I got up for work on Wednesday, bleary eyed. I did take a half day so I could get home and help with the final preparations before the crowd descended on our home. These preparations were interrupted by both of Cheryl's sisters who dropped by at various times with various kids. Some, I think were mine, but I was not sure who belonged where at this point. We were invited to go out to dinner and despite my concerns, we took the kids out to Red Robin at the mall.
Relax, we will be fine. It will all get done. Guess who!
We had another great time, but I am not going to lie, it was a set back. Another late night. I got to bed after 1:30 a.m. and had to get up early to buy the donuts for the annual family Turkey Bowl football game.
My team lost, and we lost, in large part, to my exhaustion. You cannot hoot with the owls at
night and soar with the eagles in the morning.
Now it is 1 a.m, and I am typing this Funny Guy Friday after hosting the Thanksgiving feast. Guess what... we were fine. We got it all done. And dinner was a success.
Cheryl has got to learn to relax.
I am so thankful for so many things, but our families are at the top of the list. In reality, I would not change a single thing about this week except maybe spending even more time with everybody. Don't believe me? Cheryl's family, all twenty five of them, are coming over for leftovers tomorrow, er, uh, today.
I hope you all had a chance to spend some time with your loved ones and had a happy and blessed Thanksgiving.
But for now... I gotta get some sleep. I'm exhausted. Good night.
Friday, November 16, 2012
Funny Guy Friday… Our new one-stop-shop… and then some...
I have discovered the Holy Grail of stores. I don't know how I missed it these past twenty years. I had heard people talk of this shopping utopia before, but I never thought much of it until this past week.
Sam's Club.
Cheryl and I had talked about joining in the past but we always blew it off. Then, with Thanksgiving and Christmas approaching, we decided that it might be a good idea to check it out. From the moment that I walked through the door and was greeted by the ninety-year-old Sam's gal, I was hooked. She had me at hello!
Granny advised me that I had to get in the customer service line and join the club. I eagerly got behind a couple with two young children. The younger daughter was about four years old and was quite a handful. Dad gave her a swift swipe across the bottom as I looked on, refusing to pass judgment. Apparently, I must have had a shocked look on my face because mom felt the need to tell me that her daughter is, in fact, a handful. She explained that nothing seemed to work, and her behavior was getting worse.
I explained that I understood and that all kids are different.
What I was really thinking was that my kids are way better than yours and the corporal punishment that your husband just laid on your four-year-old has no effect on me because I am getting ready to join the coolest store in the world. Beat her with a whip as far as I am concerned. Oh, by the way, I think you can buy a case of whips in aisle nine.
When I got to the front of the line, another nice old lady was there to assist me.
I want to join. I want to join right now. What do I need to do?
Do you own a business?
Why, yes, yes I do. Does that help me?
Yes. You can get a business membership. That comes with two cards.
Two cards? Who gets the other one?
Anybody you want.
Can it be my girlfriend? Would you tell my wife if I were to give the second card to my girlfriend?
This stopped the nice old lady in her tracks, and I realized that she did not think that I was joking. I was joking… I swear… I was joking… Really, I was just joking. I would never lie to my new friends at Sam's Club.
Anyway, I got my picture taken and I looked quite dashing, if I do say so myself. I assured the nice woman that I would send my wife over to the counter as soon as I found her so she too could have her photo taken for her new Sam's card. Cheryl and our daughter Gracie had left me about fifteen minutes earlier to start shopping. When I found them, they had already filled a shopping cart full of stuff, none of which was food for Thanksgiving or gifts for Christmas.
Cheryl made her way over to the photo counter to have her picture taken for her very own Sam's Club membership card. I must say that if she really did look like the girl in her photo, I would consider the whole girlfriend option. Not the best photo in the world, if you catch my drift. She kind of had a stretchy head. Fortunately, it is about the size of nail... the kind of nail that you hammer... not the kind on your finger. Funny how a store that does everything so big takes pictures that are so small. No matter... I love this place.
To be fair, if you have never shopped at Sam's Club, you would not know that it does not take much to fill a cart. Everything is sold in bulk so if you buy three things, there is a good chance the cart will be full. They, in fact, bought way more than three things, and when I expressed surprise at the speed at which they shopped, Cheryl explained that the store was getting ready to close so we had to move.
After spending three hundred dollars, we decided that that was good start, but we would need to come back for more the next day, which was Veteran's Day. I am kind of embarrassed to say that this kind of had me excited.
I played golf with some friends on Veteran's Day and I played terribly. There was a simple excuse: my mind was preoccupied with Sam's Club. We were going to go and buy our Thanksgiving dinner goods once I got home. By the way, the guys I played golf with did not share my enthusiasm about Sam's Club.
Day two brought more great savings. Our purchases included, but were not limited to, a case of aluminum foil, a case of saran wrap, three cases of plates, a case of cutlery, two cases of napkins, a case of paper towels, two cases of cranberry jelly, two cases of stuffing mix, sixteen butter sticks, a case of corn, and a case of green beans. Two carts full of stuff and goodbye to another four hundred dollars. It was awesome!
So this coming Thursday, we will have more than fifty friends and family members coming over for Thanksgiving dinner. I am thankful for so much that the Lord has provided. I have often said that I married the nicest woman that God has ever put on this earth. He has blessed us with three great kids that make us proud every day. He provides me the opportunity to go to work every day and make a living and to support my family. We have great friends and a beautiful home.
What more could we want? What more do we need?
How about a store where you can buy food, clothes, cleaning supplies, toys, cameras, TVs, computers, stereos, exercise equipment, camping equipment and tires (I wonder if you have to buy six tires even thought you only use four at a time)?
My life is complete. I love Sam's Club!
Sam's Club.
Cheryl and I had talked about joining in the past but we always blew it off. Then, with Thanksgiving and Christmas approaching, we decided that it might be a good idea to check it out. From the moment that I walked through the door and was greeted by the ninety-year-old Sam's gal, I was hooked. She had me at hello!
Granny advised me that I had to get in the customer service line and join the club. I eagerly got behind a couple with two young children. The younger daughter was about four years old and was quite a handful. Dad gave her a swift swipe across the bottom as I looked on, refusing to pass judgment. Apparently, I must have had a shocked look on my face because mom felt the need to tell me that her daughter is, in fact, a handful. She explained that nothing seemed to work, and her behavior was getting worse.
I explained that I understood and that all kids are different.
What I was really thinking was that my kids are way better than yours and the corporal punishment that your husband just laid on your four-year-old has no effect on me because I am getting ready to join the coolest store in the world. Beat her with a whip as far as I am concerned. Oh, by the way, I think you can buy a case of whips in aisle nine.
When I got to the front of the line, another nice old lady was there to assist me.
I want to join. I want to join right now. What do I need to do?
Do you own a business?
Why, yes, yes I do. Does that help me?
Yes. You can get a business membership. That comes with two cards.
Two cards? Who gets the other one?
Anybody you want.
Can it be my girlfriend? Would you tell my wife if I were to give the second card to my girlfriend?
This stopped the nice old lady in her tracks, and I realized that she did not think that I was joking. I was joking… I swear… I was joking… Really, I was just joking. I would never lie to my new friends at Sam's Club.
Anyway, I got my picture taken and I looked quite dashing, if I do say so myself. I assured the nice woman that I would send my wife over to the counter as soon as I found her so she too could have her photo taken for her new Sam's card. Cheryl and our daughter Gracie had left me about fifteen minutes earlier to start shopping. When I found them, they had already filled a shopping cart full of stuff, none of which was food for Thanksgiving or gifts for Christmas.
Cheryl made her way over to the photo counter to have her picture taken for her very own Sam's Club membership card. I must say that if she really did look like the girl in her photo, I would consider the whole girlfriend option. Not the best photo in the world, if you catch my drift. She kind of had a stretchy head. Fortunately, it is about the size of nail... the kind of nail that you hammer... not the kind on your finger. Funny how a store that does everything so big takes pictures that are so small. No matter... I love this place.
To be fair, if you have never shopped at Sam's Club, you would not know that it does not take much to fill a cart. Everything is sold in bulk so if you buy three things, there is a good chance the cart will be full. They, in fact, bought way more than three things, and when I expressed surprise at the speed at which they shopped, Cheryl explained that the store was getting ready to close so we had to move.
After spending three hundred dollars, we decided that that was good start, but we would need to come back for more the next day, which was Veteran's Day. I am kind of embarrassed to say that this kind of had me excited.
I played golf with some friends on Veteran's Day and I played terribly. There was a simple excuse: my mind was preoccupied with Sam's Club. We were going to go and buy our Thanksgiving dinner goods once I got home. By the way, the guys I played golf with did not share my enthusiasm about Sam's Club.
Day two brought more great savings. Our purchases included, but were not limited to, a case of aluminum foil, a case of saran wrap, three cases of plates, a case of cutlery, two cases of napkins, a case of paper towels, two cases of cranberry jelly, two cases of stuffing mix, sixteen butter sticks, a case of corn, and a case of green beans. Two carts full of stuff and goodbye to another four hundred dollars. It was awesome!
So this coming Thursday, we will have more than fifty friends and family members coming over for Thanksgiving dinner. I am thankful for so much that the Lord has provided. I have often said that I married the nicest woman that God has ever put on this earth. He has blessed us with three great kids that make us proud every day. He provides me the opportunity to go to work every day and make a living and to support my family. We have great friends and a beautiful home.
What more could we want? What more do we need?
How about a store where you can buy food, clothes, cleaning supplies, toys, cameras, TVs, computers, stereos, exercise equipment, camping equipment and tires (I wonder if you have to buy six tires even thought you only use four at a time)?
My life is complete. I love Sam's Club!
Friday, November 9, 2012
Funny Guy Friday... Unjust election results...
Funny Guy Friday is written each week by my husband Mark. So, I married a funny guy...
Every week, for the past two and a half years, I have faithfully sat at our computer and composed a weekly essay about the funny things that occur in our household. I have been able to find humor in the middle of a hurricane... when I shot my son in the rear... in spite of a friend's cancer... and despite injuries to my kids and me. Heck, I even managed to find humor in the weeks that my father was passing away (here, here, here, and here).
This past week, however, was humorless for me, and my Cal Ripken-like streak nearly came to an end. Nothing funny happened this past week. In fact, a lot of depressing things happened.
As you may have guessed, I am a bit frosty about this past week's election results. There is no way that the right person won, and the voters clearly got it wrong. Way wrong!
There had to be some sort of voter fraud. I would like to think that the press would vow to review every vote until they uncovered the plot. They won't, of course, because they are happy with the results. Heaven help us if the roles were reversed.
I know for sure that at least one voter has admitted that he was promised certain "benefits" if he voted for the eventual winner. Another Republican voter advised that she could not work the electronic machines... and nobody would help her. Finally, I know as a matter of fact, that a relatively large number of voters cast their ballot after the polls had closed. None of them voted for the right candidate, so, of course, their votes still counted. If I know about these incidents of voter fraud, there have to be others.
Why have rules if they are only going to be ignored? It is just wrong, and the citizens deserve better.
Of course, I am talking about Captain America winning last week's Great Pumpkin Carving Contest.
What did you think I was referring to? The Presidential election? I mean, I think we got that wrong too, but who cares about that?
The way I see that election, we voted for what we already have... broken promises, continued gridlock, increased debt, high unemployment, a confusing foreign policy, and an ever-expanding government that promotes policies that reduce our personal rights and religious freedoms. I have seen this movie before; there is nothing new here. Just the same old, same old!
The really bad news involved the family Pumpkin Carving contest.
Captain America won first place. There was a tie for second between the Pandering Palumbo Pumpkin and the Cougar. The bronze went to a tie between the Terps Pumpkin and the Vomiting Hungover Pumpkin.
I will admit that I cast my vote for the Captain America pumpkin, but that was only because I was prohibited from voting for my own creations.
I don't understand the results. I ran a great campaign, and my pumpkins drew huge crowds at every appearance. My opponents, on the other hand, drew crickets. I ran internal polls and I won every one. My ads were positive, while my opponents resorted to name calling and personal attacks. They had no chance to win on the merits of their pumpkins, so they made the election about small things. They rallied their fanatical base, but how could such a negative campaign be appealing to the masses?
I was left to second-guess some of my decisions.
Perhaps I made a tactical error by carving both Frankenstein and his Bride. It may have been the Ross Perot-third party effect where one of my pumpkins took votes away from my other pumpkin. But I was sure that I was going to pull down a gold AND A SILVER. I did not even crack the top three. This was unthinkable.
Perhaps I should have gone negative and attacked Captain America's continued lies. You know... that whopper he told time and time again about the rise of the Red Skull being related to a You Tube video. It turns out that more people knew about Frankenstein's treatment of his dog than knew about this Skull issue. By the way, Frankie and his wife both transported the dog on top of his vehicle AND ate the dog!
Perhaps I should have been less successful in my previous private-sector pumpkin carving business. I think that the voters were jealous of my achievements. Who would have thought that success would be a negative?
Oh well, I have come up with a way to get through this difficult time. I have decided to turn it all off. No news, no facebook, no radio talk shows, and no political discussions. I am done with it all. I have made the decision to avoid anything that may annoy me. Whatever happens... happens. My conscience is clear!
I guess time will tell if I will be able to implement this strategy for the next four years... er... uh... I mean... until next Halloween.
Every week, for the past two and a half years, I have faithfully sat at our computer and composed a weekly essay about the funny things that occur in our household. I have been able to find humor in the middle of a hurricane... when I shot my son in the rear... in spite of a friend's cancer... and despite injuries to my kids and me. Heck, I even managed to find humor in the weeks that my father was passing away (here, here, here, and here).
This past week, however, was humorless for me, and my Cal Ripken-like streak nearly came to an end. Nothing funny happened this past week. In fact, a lot of depressing things happened.
As you may have guessed, I am a bit frosty about this past week's election results. There is no way that the right person won, and the voters clearly got it wrong. Way wrong!
There had to be some sort of voter fraud. I would like to think that the press would vow to review every vote until they uncovered the plot. They won't, of course, because they are happy with the results. Heaven help us if the roles were reversed.
I know for sure that at least one voter has admitted that he was promised certain "benefits" if he voted for the eventual winner. Another Republican voter advised that she could not work the electronic machines... and nobody would help her. Finally, I know as a matter of fact, that a relatively large number of voters cast their ballot after the polls had closed. None of them voted for the right candidate, so, of course, their votes still counted. If I know about these incidents of voter fraud, there have to be others.
Why have rules if they are only going to be ignored? It is just wrong, and the citizens deserve better.
Of course, I am talking about Captain America winning last week's Great Pumpkin Carving Contest.
What did you think I was referring to? The Presidential election? I mean, I think we got that wrong too, but who cares about that?
The way I see that election, we voted for what we already have... broken promises, continued gridlock, increased debt, high unemployment, a confusing foreign policy, and an ever-expanding government that promotes policies that reduce our personal rights and religious freedoms. I have seen this movie before; there is nothing new here. Just the same old, same old!
The really bad news involved the family Pumpkin Carving contest.
Captain America won first place. There was a tie for second between the Pandering Palumbo Pumpkin and the Cougar. The bronze went to a tie between the Terps Pumpkin and the Vomiting Hungover Pumpkin.
I will admit that I cast my vote for the Captain America pumpkin, but that was only because I was prohibited from voting for my own creations.
I don't understand the results. I ran a great campaign, and my pumpkins drew huge crowds at every appearance. My opponents, on the other hand, drew crickets. I ran internal polls and I won every one. My ads were positive, while my opponents resorted to name calling and personal attacks. They had no chance to win on the merits of their pumpkins, so they made the election about small things. They rallied their fanatical base, but how could such a negative campaign be appealing to the masses?
I was left to second-guess some of my decisions.
Perhaps I made a tactical error by carving both Frankenstein and his Bride. It may have been the Ross Perot-third party effect where one of my pumpkins took votes away from my other pumpkin. But I was sure that I was going to pull down a gold AND A SILVER. I did not even crack the top three. This was unthinkable.
Perhaps I should have gone negative and attacked Captain America's continued lies. You know... that whopper he told time and time again about the rise of the Red Skull being related to a You Tube video. It turns out that more people knew about Frankenstein's treatment of his dog than knew about this Skull issue. By the way, Frankie and his wife both transported the dog on top of his vehicle AND ate the dog!
Perhaps I should have been less successful in my previous private-sector pumpkin carving business. I think that the voters were jealous of my achievements. Who would have thought that success would be a negative?
Oh well, I have come up with a way to get through this difficult time. I have decided to turn it all off. No news, no facebook, no radio talk shows, and no political discussions. I am done with it all. I have made the decision to avoid anything that may annoy me. Whatever happens... happens. My conscience is clear!
I guess time will tell if I will be able to implement this strategy for the next four years... er... uh... I mean... until next Halloween.
Friday, November 2, 2012
Funny Guy Friday… The Contest is Back...
Funny Guy Friday is written each week by my husband Mark. So… I married a funny guy...
We just got back from this evening's All Saints Day Mass. You know about All Saints Day… it is the Catholic answer to Halloween. All good Catholics dress up as their favorite Saint and they approach the priest and say Sin or Saint and the priest blesses them, gives them some candy and sends them on their way.
Not really, we just go to Mass and the priest talks about the saints.
This evening, the priest spoke about the common traits that the saints share. He spoke of their faithfulness and their kind treatment of others. He mentioned that the saints did not have super powers, they were not star athletes or popular singers. He commented that it was doubtful that any person in this congregation would be a professional baseball player (dashing poor Matthew's dreams) or a professional singer (crushing poor Gracie's hopes). I would note that the priest did not mention that all artists struggle, so Noah is still hopeful that he will have a career. Then the priest mentioned that nobody in his congregation was going to win a big contest any time soon.
At this point I looked at my kids and my kids looked at me and we all said the same thing, That's not true, I am going to win the family pumpkin carving contest! The priest went too far this time.
Ah, the family pumpkin carving contest. I wrote about this family tradition last year. Admittedly, the contest fizzled several years ago when my nieces and nephews got older and moved on. Rallying college kids to carve pumpkins and bob for apples is not as easy as you might think. They claimed they had "other stuff" to do, but I think they were just tired of losing. Whatever the reason, we went years without the competition… until a week ago.
I was at a restaurant when I received a text from my nephew Daniel. Attached was a photo of a pumpkin with a spider carved out. The text read, I think this would have taken the annual pumpkin carving contest.
I thought it was nice effort… if he were back in the fourth grade. Certainly, this was no first place pumpkin. I had to set the record straight. I had to defend my pumpkin's honor. Please. My pumpkin would have kicked this pumpkin's a**. We were now off to the races as I was drawn into a text war. I was focused and I was not giving an inch. It was old school v. new school, and in the course of our texting I issued a challenge.
It is on. My house. October 30th. Bring your best.
Heaven help us if my family ever becomes competitive.
I sent the word out to the rest of the family. The Pumpkin Carving Contest was back on and everyone was invited to my house for dessert and pumpkins. Unfortunately, on October 30th I came home to a growling, loud, wet, obnoxious mess. No, no, no, I am not talking about our laundry room or our kitchen. I came home to the beginnings of hurricane Sandy. It appeared that the only thing that could beat me was Mother Nature. I could not accept the fact that the contest was going to get rained out. I needed to think. I needed to regroup. I needed a plan B.
I knew… facebook. I would bring this contest into the 21st century. I would have everyone post their entries on facebook and then each family member could get in on the voting. This stroke of genius would allow additional entries from throughout the entire country. Pumpkins would be flying in from as far away as Virginia, Pennsylvania, Washington, Texas and Florida. This baby was going nation wide. I… was a genius.
Now the pressure was on to carve a prize winning pumpkin. We purchased pumpkins for each of us and one extra in the event of a pumpkin carving disaster. I was leaving nothing to chance. Noah went with the Grinch. Grace went with Captain America. Matthew went with a hung-over throwing up pumpkin, and I carved a Frankenstein and a Bride of Frankenstein (which looked very eerily like my lovely wife).
These pumpkins were awesome… but so too were the other entries. There was the PALUMBO smiley face pumpkin (someone who knows their audience), the Houston Cougar, the Michigan State Spartan (two contestants that do not know their audience but love their alma maters), and a University of Maryland entry. A pumpkin face within a pumpkin face, a Romney/Ryan pumpkin (sure to appeal to all but the 47%), and a series of old fashioned, old school jack'o lanterns.
In years' past, I had been known to stuff the ballot box to ensure victory over my semi-worthy opponents. I was not proud of this fact but my shame had been quickly forgotten when they raised my pumpkin-gooey hand in victory.
Now that all votes are posted on facebook, I have nothing up my sleeve. It is as if the United Nations is watching over me. I hate the UN. I hate transparency!
Now, I suppose that I will have to rely on the voters to do the right thing. The problem is that the voters are all family members that don't particularly care for some of my clever commentary. You see, there are occasions when I can be brutally honest......and I must admit that I enjoy the brutality more than I enjoy the honesty part.
Based on the current voting, I may be forced to change some of the rules. Here are some of my thoughts:
1. Moms cannot vote for their own children's pumpkin. My mommy does not have a facebook. Heck, she can't even turn on her computer. It is not fair to me.
2. Grandmothers cannot vote for their own grandkids. Grandmothers are old and they don't know what they are doing. My grandmother is dead. It is not fair to me.
3. You cannot vote for a college-themed pumpkin unless you graduated from an accredited law school. This is very fair to me.
4. No voting for pumpkins that have anything to do with any other holiday except Halloween. If you don't know what holiday it is, you shouldn't even be allowed to enter the contest.
5. You cannot vote for gross, vomiting pumpkins. They are gross and they are vomiting.
6. No super heroes unless they are non-discriminatory super heroes. Captain America is not appropriate for our Italian heritage. Not fair to my Italian brothers and sisters.
7. No voting for political pumpkins. Save your votes for Romney for November 6th.
8. No voting for pumpkins that have geometrically correct eyes, noses or mouths.
9. Pandering pumpkins are automatically disqualified. Besides, too many women have been fooled by an irresistible Palumbo smile.
10. I have arachnophobia, so Spiders need not apply.
11. No redundancy votes. A face within a face is just boring to me. I mean it is just boring to me.
There, I think that just about does it.
I am happy to report that, based on the new voting guidelines, Frankenstein and Bride of Frankenstein are in a dead heat for the top prize. I will rest easy knowing that my record win streak is intact.
We just got back from this evening's All Saints Day Mass. You know about All Saints Day… it is the Catholic answer to Halloween. All good Catholics dress up as their favorite Saint and they approach the priest and say Sin or Saint and the priest blesses them, gives them some candy and sends them on their way.
Not really, we just go to Mass and the priest talks about the saints.
This evening, the priest spoke about the common traits that the saints share. He spoke of their faithfulness and their kind treatment of others. He mentioned that the saints did not have super powers, they were not star athletes or popular singers. He commented that it was doubtful that any person in this congregation would be a professional baseball player (dashing poor Matthew's dreams) or a professional singer (crushing poor Gracie's hopes). I would note that the priest did not mention that all artists struggle, so Noah is still hopeful that he will have a career. Then the priest mentioned that nobody in his congregation was going to win a big contest any time soon.
At this point I looked at my kids and my kids looked at me and we all said the same thing, That's not true, I am going to win the family pumpkin carving contest! The priest went too far this time.
Ah, the family pumpkin carving contest. I wrote about this family tradition last year. Admittedly, the contest fizzled several years ago when my nieces and nephews got older and moved on. Rallying college kids to carve pumpkins and bob for apples is not as easy as you might think. They claimed they had "other stuff" to do, but I think they were just tired of losing. Whatever the reason, we went years without the competition… until a week ago.
I was at a restaurant when I received a text from my nephew Daniel. Attached was a photo of a pumpkin with a spider carved out. The text read, I think this would have taken the annual pumpkin carving contest.
I thought it was nice effort… if he were back in the fourth grade. Certainly, this was no first place pumpkin. I had to set the record straight. I had to defend my pumpkin's honor. Please. My pumpkin would have kicked this pumpkin's a**. We were now off to the races as I was drawn into a text war. I was focused and I was not giving an inch. It was old school v. new school, and in the course of our texting I issued a challenge.
It is on. My house. October 30th. Bring your best.
Heaven help us if my family ever becomes competitive.
I sent the word out to the rest of the family. The Pumpkin Carving Contest was back on and everyone was invited to my house for dessert and pumpkins. Unfortunately, on October 30th I came home to a growling, loud, wet, obnoxious mess. No, no, no, I am not talking about our laundry room or our kitchen. I came home to the beginnings of hurricane Sandy. It appeared that the only thing that could beat me was Mother Nature. I could not accept the fact that the contest was going to get rained out. I needed to think. I needed to regroup. I needed a plan B.
I knew… facebook. I would bring this contest into the 21st century. I would have everyone post their entries on facebook and then each family member could get in on the voting. This stroke of genius would allow additional entries from throughout the entire country. Pumpkins would be flying in from as far away as Virginia, Pennsylvania, Washington, Texas and Florida. This baby was going nation wide. I… was a genius.
Now the pressure was on to carve a prize winning pumpkin. We purchased pumpkins for each of us and one extra in the event of a pumpkin carving disaster. I was leaving nothing to chance. Noah went with the Grinch. Grace went with Captain America. Matthew went with a hung-over throwing up pumpkin, and I carved a Frankenstein and a Bride of Frankenstein (which looked very eerily like my lovely wife).
These pumpkins were awesome… but so too were the other entries. There was the PALUMBO smiley face pumpkin (someone who knows their audience), the Houston Cougar, the Michigan State Spartan (two contestants that do not know their audience but love their alma maters), and a University of Maryland entry. A pumpkin face within a pumpkin face, a Romney/Ryan pumpkin (sure to appeal to all but the 47%), and a series of old fashioned, old school jack'o lanterns.
In years' past, I had been known to stuff the ballot box to ensure victory over my semi-worthy opponents. I was not proud of this fact but my shame had been quickly forgotten when they raised my pumpkin-gooey hand in victory.
Now that all votes are posted on facebook, I have nothing up my sleeve. It is as if the United Nations is watching over me. I hate the UN. I hate transparency!
Now, I suppose that I will have to rely on the voters to do the right thing. The problem is that the voters are all family members that don't particularly care for some of my clever commentary. You see, there are occasions when I can be brutally honest......and I must admit that I enjoy the brutality more than I enjoy the honesty part.
Based on the current voting, I may be forced to change some of the rules. Here are some of my thoughts:
1. Moms cannot vote for their own children's pumpkin. My mommy does not have a facebook. Heck, she can't even turn on her computer. It is not fair to me.
2. Grandmothers cannot vote for their own grandkids. Grandmothers are old and they don't know what they are doing. My grandmother is dead. It is not fair to me.
3. You cannot vote for a college-themed pumpkin unless you graduated from an accredited law school. This is very fair to me.
4. No voting for pumpkins that have anything to do with any other holiday except Halloween. If you don't know what holiday it is, you shouldn't even be allowed to enter the contest.
5. You cannot vote for gross, vomiting pumpkins. They are gross and they are vomiting.
6. No super heroes unless they are non-discriminatory super heroes. Captain America is not appropriate for our Italian heritage. Not fair to my Italian brothers and sisters.
7. No voting for political pumpkins. Save your votes for Romney for November 6th.
8. No voting for pumpkins that have geometrically correct eyes, noses or mouths.
9. Pandering pumpkins are automatically disqualified. Besides, too many women have been fooled by an irresistible Palumbo smile.
10. I have arachnophobia, so Spiders need not apply.
11. No redundancy votes. A face within a face is just boring to me. I mean it is just boring to me.
There, I think that just about does it.
I am happy to report that, based on the new voting guidelines, Frankenstein and Bride of Frankenstein are in a dead heat for the top prize. I will rest easy knowing that my record win streak is intact.
Happy Halloween to all, and to all a good night.
Friday, October 26, 2012
Funny Guy Friday... Eight to eighty... Blind, crippled and back on the road......
Funny Guy Friday is written each week by my husband, Mark. So, I married a funny guy...
On Wednesday, I came home from work early so I could take my mother to the eye doctor. When I came through the door, I entered the kitchen to find Noah sitting on the counter, with blood coming from his wrist, his knee and his mouth. He had had a bicycle accident.
A neighbor, who happens to be an emergency room doctor, took a look and thought that he might need a few stitches. Cheryl went in one direction to the emergency room with Noah, and I went in the other direction to the eye doctor with my mother.
Noah learned to ride his bike about a month ago. He was very cautious when he first started but continued to gain confidence with each passing day. He loves riding his bike.
On the day of the big crash, he was crossing the street in front of our house and tried to make a quick turn back in the other direction to avoid a parked car. Being new to the road, he miscalculated and did a complete face plant onto the roadway. Score it Roadway 1-Noah 0.
Because he is so cautious, I was worried that this little mishap would prevent him from getting back on his bike and riding again. Fortunately, he seems to be back in the saddle, and despite five stitches in his lip and a limp in his step, he is back on the road.
My mother on the other hand, learned to drive about fifty years ago. She has never had an accident... and has no stitches... but she does not like to drive. She is uneasy driving on the highways and at night. Certainly, if I had my druthers, Naoh would ride his bike all the time and my mother would drive very little.
You see, last Tuesday, my mother asked if I would take her to the MVA to get her license renewed. My mother is going to be eighty-two in the next few weeks and she was anxious to get this process completed. It seems that at eighty-two, no matter what she is doing, she is anxious to get it done.
Anyway, she asked that I come to her house and help her fill out her application. I wondered if there were something different about the application because of her age. She advised that there were a few questions that she was not sure about. No problem.
I went to her house and we reviewed the application. The application is the same, but the organ donor questions seemed to throw her for a loop. Anyway, we got it all squared away and it was off to the MVA. Just as an FYI, you won't be getting any of my mother's organs anytime soon.
Anyway, she seemed to be very excited about the license renewal because she had had cataract surgery several months ago and she was sure she could pass the eye exam.
We were lucky to arrive at the MVA when there were no lines, so we jumped right up to the counter. The very nice young lady asked my mother to press her forehead against the bar and read the fourth line.
She saw nothing.
I stepped up to offer my assistance and it was clear that she had not properly pressed her forehead against the bar, so nothing had appeared on the screen. Even with my help, she had trouble reading the fourth line.
No problem, the lady kindly assured her, Just put on your glasses and try it again. You already have a restriction for glasses, so it will just remain the same.
I don't have my glasses with me, she said.
Mom, the glasses are right around your neck. Put those on and we are good to go.
I think these are reading glasses; I don't see well out of these. I don't think I have regular glasses.
What do you wear when you drive?
I don't need glasses to drive. I don't see as well with these glasses.
What? That makes no sense, Mom.
We were told of two options. First, go home and find the correct pair of glasses and come back. I had a sneaky suspicion that the correct pair of glasses did not exist, so that was not an option. Second, we could take her for an eye exam and get the doctor to fill out the correct form.
I have a good friend who is an optometrist and he got us in the next day. He started his exam and he gently told her that she does, in fact, need glasses but her prescription was not too bad. He then looked at the glasses that she had around her neck and got a puzzled look on his face. He asked my mother if she ever wore those glasses and then he left the room. When he came back, he asked her to put her old glasses on and to read the eye chart. She could see nothing. He then informed us that her current glasses were over two times too strong.
Mom, after your cataract surgery, did you ever go back to the eye doctor to have your eyes checked.
No, they were better!
There you have it; her eyes are better. She is back on the road.
Two ends of the spectrum. An eight-year-old that wrecks his bike and I want him back on the bike before he even gets his stitches out. And an eighty-two-year-old that has never had an accident but I would prefer that she drive on a limited basis... a very limited basis... preferably when the eight-year-old's bike is in the garage.
Grace is sixteen and is making some noises about getting her license. I don't know what will be going through my mind when that happens.
On Wednesday, I came home from work early so I could take my mother to the eye doctor. When I came through the door, I entered the kitchen to find Noah sitting on the counter, with blood coming from his wrist, his knee and his mouth. He had had a bicycle accident.
A neighbor, who happens to be an emergency room doctor, took a look and thought that he might need a few stitches. Cheryl went in one direction to the emergency room with Noah, and I went in the other direction to the eye doctor with my mother.
Noah learned to ride his bike about a month ago. He was very cautious when he first started but continued to gain confidence with each passing day. He loves riding his bike.
On the day of the big crash, he was crossing the street in front of our house and tried to make a quick turn back in the other direction to avoid a parked car. Being new to the road, he miscalculated and did a complete face plant onto the roadway. Score it Roadway 1-Noah 0.
Because he is so cautious, I was worried that this little mishap would prevent him from getting back on his bike and riding again. Fortunately, he seems to be back in the saddle, and despite five stitches in his lip and a limp in his step, he is back on the road.
My mother on the other hand, learned to drive about fifty years ago. She has never had an accident... and has no stitches... but she does not like to drive. She is uneasy driving on the highways and at night. Certainly, if I had my druthers, Naoh would ride his bike all the time and my mother would drive very little.
You see, last Tuesday, my mother asked if I would take her to the MVA to get her license renewed. My mother is going to be eighty-two in the next few weeks and she was anxious to get this process completed. It seems that at eighty-two, no matter what she is doing, she is anxious to get it done.
Anyway, she asked that I come to her house and help her fill out her application. I wondered if there were something different about the application because of her age. She advised that there were a few questions that she was not sure about. No problem.
I went to her house and we reviewed the application. The application is the same, but the organ donor questions seemed to throw her for a loop. Anyway, we got it all squared away and it was off to the MVA. Just as an FYI, you won't be getting any of my mother's organs anytime soon.
Anyway, she seemed to be very excited about the license renewal because she had had cataract surgery several months ago and she was sure she could pass the eye exam.
We were lucky to arrive at the MVA when there were no lines, so we jumped right up to the counter. The very nice young lady asked my mother to press her forehead against the bar and read the fourth line.
She saw nothing.
I stepped up to offer my assistance and it was clear that she had not properly pressed her forehead against the bar, so nothing had appeared on the screen. Even with my help, she had trouble reading the fourth line.
No problem, the lady kindly assured her, Just put on your glasses and try it again. You already have a restriction for glasses, so it will just remain the same.
I don't have my glasses with me, she said.
Mom, the glasses are right around your neck. Put those on and we are good to go.
I think these are reading glasses; I don't see well out of these. I don't think I have regular glasses.
What do you wear when you drive?
I don't need glasses to drive. I don't see as well with these glasses.
What? That makes no sense, Mom.
We were told of two options. First, go home and find the correct pair of glasses and come back. I had a sneaky suspicion that the correct pair of glasses did not exist, so that was not an option. Second, we could take her for an eye exam and get the doctor to fill out the correct form.
I have a good friend who is an optometrist and he got us in the next day. He started his exam and he gently told her that she does, in fact, need glasses but her prescription was not too bad. He then looked at the glasses that she had around her neck and got a puzzled look on his face. He asked my mother if she ever wore those glasses and then he left the room. When he came back, he asked her to put her old glasses on and to read the eye chart. She could see nothing. He then informed us that her current glasses were over two times too strong.
Mom, after your cataract surgery, did you ever go back to the eye doctor to have your eyes checked.
No, they were better!
There you have it; her eyes are better. She is back on the road.
Two ends of the spectrum. An eight-year-old that wrecks his bike and I want him back on the bike before he even gets his stitches out. And an eighty-two-year-old that has never had an accident but I would prefer that she drive on a limited basis... a very limited basis... preferably when the eight-year-old's bike is in the garage.
Grace is sixteen and is making some noises about getting her license. I don't know what will be going through my mind when that happens.
Friday, October 19, 2012
Funny Guy Friday… In.De.Pen.Dent...
Funny Guy Friday is written each week by my husband Mark. So… I married a funny guy.
'Tis the season for debates. I hate these things, but I guess we need to have something for the undecided voters. I am sure that these debates will help tip the scale one way or the other.
I just got done watching the second presidential debate.
Okay, full disclosure… Technically, I didn't watch it. I had more important matters to attend to as the Tigers were playing the Yankees in the final round of the American League Playoffs. I did kind of watch the first debate, and that was fun. Okay, full disclosure again. I flipped over to it every once in a while between innings of the Oriole-Yankee game. They really should stop scheduling these debates in October during the baseball playoffs.
Anyway, at some point during the second presidential debate, I was forced to venture into the family debate room because I heard what I thought was an argument between Grace and Matthew. It sounded like Matthew was accusing Gracie of saying something, or not saying something. I could not really figure it out exactly, but I knew I had to put an end to this quarrel. Turned out, it was not Matthew and Gracie, but instead, it was Mitt Romney and debate moderator Candy Crowley arguing about what the president said, or didn't say, in the Rose Garden following the embassy attack.
I wasn't able to break up the debate, but I was able to go back to my baseball game and go on the computer next to the TV. You know what I was able to do? I was able to look up exactly what the president said on that fateful day. Think about that for a second. Immediately after a candidate states a "fact," I, a complete computer moron, am able to research the statement and either confirm or refute that statement in a matter of seconds. You would think that with this kind of technology, it would be easy for those undecided voters to figure this whole thing out.
In an effort to help any of you undecided voters, here is what I found out… both sides can claim they were right. It seems that the president did use the words "acts of terror" in a sentence, BUT… he may not have been talking about the events in Libya. Okay, undecided voters are still confused.
Well, that wasn't very much help now was it?
I knew after the debate I could just turn on the television and flip around to the news channels and see what the experts had to say. Surely, we would get some consensus on the issue. I mean he either said it and he meant it, or he didn't. I flipped on the FOX News channel and it was all very clear. He did not call it a terrorist attack and the president is in big trouble. Oh, and by the way, Candy Crowley was rude and uninformed. There you have it, case closed. Vote for Romney.
Just for fun, I clicked over to MSNBC to confirm my findings. Wait a second, this could not be right; they were telling me that Romney had it all wrong and they think that Candy Crowley was fair and in control of the facts. Check the box for Obama.
What the heck was going on here?
What are undecided voters going to do?
Now, can we talk about these undecided voters for just one second? Who can honestly say that they are undecided at this point? What have they been looking at for the past six months? Oh, I get it; we have two candidates that are so closely aligned in their political views that the independents/undecideds cannot make a distinction. Thank God that one of the candidates is black and the other is white or undecided voters would never be able tell them apart.
Every time I hear the words undecided voter I think of the independents. Whenever I think of the word independent, I have to say it like Hermie the elf in Rudolph the Rednosed Reindeer. You remember Hermie... he declared that he and Rudolph were In.De.Pend.Dent... as if he were not exactly sure what the word really meant. Hermie was confused and a bit out of touch.
Hey, I may have stumbled on to something about these independents. They are confused and a bit out of touch. They do not fully grasp all of the facts of these very important issues. Perhaps, if they don't understand these issues, they shouldn't be allowed to vote. Now that wouldn't be right; every citizen has the right to vote, no matter how confused and ill-informed they may be. In fact, with two weeks to go in this election, these are the voters that the two men running for the highest office in the free world are trying to woo. We may be doomed!
I have a couple of suggestions for our two candidates.
Before you say that I have no political experience, I will advise you that I was elected Vice President of my elementary school and was eventually promoted to president when the president was unable to fulfill his duties (I recall he got suspended and was stripped of his duties). Anyway, I ran on the soda platform. I promised to explore the possibility of having free sodas with lunch.
Boom, baby! There it is. Promise the independent voters free stuff and they will love you forever. What's that? Free stuff has been promised before and it really isn't free? Someone has to pay for all that free stuff? That can't be right because I know we already give away a lot of free stuff. Politicians have been doing it for years, and we still have money in the coffers.
What's that? We don't have any money in the coffers? Not only do we not have money in the coffers, we have a huge deficit, like in the trillions? First of all, that can't be right because I know we give away free stuff all the time. And second, you're making up the word trillion just to make it sound worse than it is... like saying a kajillion dollar deficit.
You're not making that up? Trillion is a real number? Wow! That's like a kajillion dollars!
Okay, let's regroup. Promise the voters free stuff, but inform them that you will figure out a way to pay for the free stuff. If they ask how you will pay for it, tell them you will cut other non-important free stuff to pay for your newly promised free stuff. Wait, that won't work because nobody wants to give up their "bird in the hand" free stuff.
I know, I know… tell them we will raise revenues. Now this may confuse the independent voter, so be careful to assure them that this is not a tax, but if it were a tax, other people would pay it, not the independent voter.
Okay, let's review. Promise more free stuff. Don't take away any of the old free stuff. Avoid using big numbers when describing our money problems. If the money thing should come up, assure them that other people have it covered.
Hey, it worked in sixth grade, why won't it work with today's in.de.pen.dents?
For those of you trying to figure out why I never sought public office after my successful term as student body vice president/president, I want to explain a little gaffe I made that ruined my political career. After a long contentious debate about whether the school should take up a collection for a gift for the retiring janitor, I was able to pass a bipartisan bill with 100% of the vote. At the conclusion of the vote, I said, and I quote, It is anonymous, the bill passes with all yays!
We can't have a president that doesn't know the difference between anonymous and unanimous. Vice president, maybe, but not president.
'Tis the season for debates. I hate these things, but I guess we need to have something for the undecided voters. I am sure that these debates will help tip the scale one way or the other.
I just got done watching the second presidential debate.
Okay, full disclosure… Technically, I didn't watch it. I had more important matters to attend to as the Tigers were playing the Yankees in the final round of the American League Playoffs. I did kind of watch the first debate, and that was fun. Okay, full disclosure again. I flipped over to it every once in a while between innings of the Oriole-Yankee game. They really should stop scheduling these debates in October during the baseball playoffs.
Anyway, at some point during the second presidential debate, I was forced to venture into the family debate room because I heard what I thought was an argument between Grace and Matthew. It sounded like Matthew was accusing Gracie of saying something, or not saying something. I could not really figure it out exactly, but I knew I had to put an end to this quarrel. Turned out, it was not Matthew and Gracie, but instead, it was Mitt Romney and debate moderator Candy Crowley arguing about what the president said, or didn't say, in the Rose Garden following the embassy attack.
I wasn't able to break up the debate, but I was able to go back to my baseball game and go on the computer next to the TV. You know what I was able to do? I was able to look up exactly what the president said on that fateful day. Think about that for a second. Immediately after a candidate states a "fact," I, a complete computer moron, am able to research the statement and either confirm or refute that statement in a matter of seconds. You would think that with this kind of technology, it would be easy for those undecided voters to figure this whole thing out.
In an effort to help any of you undecided voters, here is what I found out… both sides can claim they were right. It seems that the president did use the words "acts of terror" in a sentence, BUT… he may not have been talking about the events in Libya. Okay, undecided voters are still confused.
Well, that wasn't very much help now was it?
I knew after the debate I could just turn on the television and flip around to the news channels and see what the experts had to say. Surely, we would get some consensus on the issue. I mean he either said it and he meant it, or he didn't. I flipped on the FOX News channel and it was all very clear. He did not call it a terrorist attack and the president is in big trouble. Oh, and by the way, Candy Crowley was rude and uninformed. There you have it, case closed. Vote for Romney.
Just for fun, I clicked over to MSNBC to confirm my findings. Wait a second, this could not be right; they were telling me that Romney had it all wrong and they think that Candy Crowley was fair and in control of the facts. Check the box for Obama.
What the heck was going on here?
What are undecided voters going to do?
Now, can we talk about these undecided voters for just one second? Who can honestly say that they are undecided at this point? What have they been looking at for the past six months? Oh, I get it; we have two candidates that are so closely aligned in their political views that the independents/undecideds cannot make a distinction. Thank God that one of the candidates is black and the other is white or undecided voters would never be able tell them apart.
Every time I hear the words undecided voter I think of the independents. Whenever I think of the word independent, I have to say it like Hermie the elf in Rudolph the Rednosed Reindeer. You remember Hermie... he declared that he and Rudolph were In.De.Pend.Dent... as if he were not exactly sure what the word really meant. Hermie was confused and a bit out of touch.
Hey, I may have stumbled on to something about these independents. They are confused and a bit out of touch. They do not fully grasp all of the facts of these very important issues. Perhaps, if they don't understand these issues, they shouldn't be allowed to vote. Now that wouldn't be right; every citizen has the right to vote, no matter how confused and ill-informed they may be. In fact, with two weeks to go in this election, these are the voters that the two men running for the highest office in the free world are trying to woo. We may be doomed!
I have a couple of suggestions for our two candidates.
Before you say that I have no political experience, I will advise you that I was elected Vice President of my elementary school and was eventually promoted to president when the president was unable to fulfill his duties (I recall he got suspended and was stripped of his duties). Anyway, I ran on the soda platform. I promised to explore the possibility of having free sodas with lunch.
Boom, baby! There it is. Promise the independent voters free stuff and they will love you forever. What's that? Free stuff has been promised before and it really isn't free? Someone has to pay for all that free stuff? That can't be right because I know we already give away a lot of free stuff. Politicians have been doing it for years, and we still have money in the coffers.
What's that? We don't have any money in the coffers? Not only do we not have money in the coffers, we have a huge deficit, like in the trillions? First of all, that can't be right because I know we give away free stuff all the time. And second, you're making up the word trillion just to make it sound worse than it is... like saying a kajillion dollar deficit.
You're not making that up? Trillion is a real number? Wow! That's like a kajillion dollars!
Okay, let's regroup. Promise the voters free stuff, but inform them that you will figure out a way to pay for the free stuff. If they ask how you will pay for it, tell them you will cut other non-important free stuff to pay for your newly promised free stuff. Wait, that won't work because nobody wants to give up their "bird in the hand" free stuff.
I know, I know… tell them we will raise revenues. Now this may confuse the independent voter, so be careful to assure them that this is not a tax, but if it were a tax, other people would pay it, not the independent voter.
Okay, let's review. Promise more free stuff. Don't take away any of the old free stuff. Avoid using big numbers when describing our money problems. If the money thing should come up, assure them that other people have it covered.
Hey, it worked in sixth grade, why won't it work with today's in.de.pen.dents?
For those of you trying to figure out why I never sought public office after my successful term as student body vice president/president, I want to explain a little gaffe I made that ruined my political career. After a long contentious debate about whether the school should take up a collection for a gift for the retiring janitor, I was able to pass a bipartisan bill with 100% of the vote. At the conclusion of the vote, I said, and I quote, It is anonymous, the bill passes with all yays!
We can't have a president that doesn't know the difference between anonymous and unanimous. Vice president, maybe, but not president.
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