Our Lady of Fatima... Pray for us.
Our Lady of the Blessed Sacrament... Hear us.
Our Lady of the Rosary... Strengthen us.

Friday, August 31, 2012

Funny Guy Friday... Cursed balloons!

     Funny Guy Friday is written each week by my husband Mark... So, I married a funny guy...
     This past Sunday, I left the house early to take my mother to her 9:30 church service. This allowed me to arrive early to our 10:00 mass. I saved a pew and waited for Cheryl and the kids to arrive. They strolled in a few minutes later, and, as usual, Cheryl entered the church with a pleasant smile on her face.
     After mass, friends of ours approached Cheryl and commented that she must not be human because nothing ever seems to bother her. She is always happy and always has a smile on her face.
     For the most part, they are correct.
     I mean... not much seems to bother her. But, she is, in fact, human.
     This I know for sure. I mean... I am pretty sure! But I did find out this week that stuff does bother her.
     Until recently, I thought there was only one thing that ever got her upset. That thing, of course, is me. She has often commented that it really bothers her when I react so harshly when things don't go exactly my way. 
     A perfect example occurred a few years ago when our Christmas tree fell and several meaningful ornaments were destroyed. I was picking up the mess and perhaps using a few teensy weensy bad words, when Cheryl came on the scene. She asked what had happened, as if the big tree lying in the living room wasn't an obvious clue.
     I told her that it was pretty evident what had happened, and she could help clean the mess. Now, admittedly, there may have been some inappropriate verbiage involved in my command. Cheryl responded by turning around and going upstairs to watch TV.
     I called her on my drive into work and she asked me if I called to apologize.
     No, I called to tell you that I am normal and you are not.
      Needless to say, it was a short conversation.
      Anyway, up until now, I was the catalyst to all of her bad moods. But then came the great balloon debacle of 2012.
      It all started on Monday, when Grace turned sixteen. I took off work, and we planned a day of fun and festivity. We started at the bowling alley where Cheryl is always very steady. On this particular day, she was off of her game. Every ball she rolled went off to the left and when she over corrected, everything rolled off to the right. This clearly frustrated her but she maintained her calm demeanor and managed to laugh about it.
      Fortunately, I was outstanding, so no problems from me. No siree, no hissy fits from me that would somehow irritate her. I was on my best behavior. Did I mention that I was outstanding? Perhaps my awesomeness was a little unnerving for her, but I have been awesome before and it never seemed to bother her.
     After bowling, we dropped Grace and her friend off at the nail salon for a pedicure. While at the nail salon, Cheryl told me that we were going to the Party Store to get hundreds of balloons and line the streets for Gracie. 
      I have purchased balloons on many occasions, and one problem with helium balloons is that they take up a bunch of space. Getting hundreds of balloons into a Honda Pilot was never going to happen and when I pointed this out to Cheryl, she understood... but she was uncharacteristically very disappointed.
     We agreed to purchase sixteen balloons. Difficult to transport, but not impossible.
     After carefully selecting her sixteen balloons in just the right mix of colors, we had them filled with helium and were then ready to transport them home.
     Funny thing about balloons. Sometimes they burst.
     As we attempted to get them into the back of the Pilot, one of the balloons touched the hot metal of the vehicle and burst. Drats! Cheryl responded. Drats is about as harsh as she gets.
     Then a second balloon burst eliciting a shrilly scream. I asked... in a totally, non offensive tone... What's your problem?  
     That startled me.  
     Really? A second balloon burst while we were putting them in the car and this startled her?
     She wasn't startled. She was mad.
     We then decided to put them in the car from the side door instead of the back. Good idea, but not fool proof. A third balloon burst.
     Then it happened! I have been married to Cheryl for more than twenty years, and I can honestly say that I have never heard her use a curse word in anger. In fact, I cannot recall a time when she used a curse word even in a joking manner. She has claimed that her father never cursed because it showed a lack of imagination. 
     I never really subscribed to that theory. In fact, I have both heard and used several curse words in some very imaginative ways... complete sentences with verbs, adjectives and adverbs. I am not proud of this fact... well, maybe there were times when I was a little proud... but I don't think that I am outside the norm.
     Anyway, as the third balloon popped, Cheryl blurted out: SHOOT! 
     Only she did not say shoot. Substitute the two vowels in the middle with a single vowel and I think you get the picture.  
     I must admit, I was shocked. First time in twenty years.
     I honestly thought that when Cheryl did curse, it would be in a slow motion, drawn out kind of way... like Ralphie in A Christmas Story, when he was helping his dad change the tire.
     But this was fast, and she meant business.
     I was scared, so I did what every coward does when they are scared. I immediately ran back into the store to buy three more balloons. I did not even think that I was leaving my two, young, impressionable sons alone in the car with this wild woman. Frankly, I did not care... it was every man for himself.
     When I got back to the car, I first confirmed that I had, in fact, heard what I thought that I had heard. The boys nodded and confirmed, with eyes wide open, looking straight ahead so as not to further provoke the beast. Then I tried to ease the tension by telling Cheryl that the lady at the counter was startled because she had heard some gun shots and a lady screaming. I was able to ease the woman's fears and explain that it was just our balloons... and my wife.
     Cheryl was not amused... and continued to stare straight ahead.
     Then I told her, and I quote... You know it is very off-putting and a bit unnerving when you overreact to things that don't go exactly your way. 
     This did get a reaction. I would point out that her response did not lack imagination... However, it did not include any more filthy language from my beautiful bride.
     I guess I need to wait another twenty years for that.

Friday, August 24, 2012

Funny Guy Friday… Clear that with me, will ya?

    Funny Guy Friday is written each week by my husband Mark. So… I married a funny guy.
    Cheryl and the kids went to visit some friends in New Jersey this past weekend and as often is the case, the typical Friday to Sunday weekend became the Friday to Wednesday weekend.  Not sure how this happens whenever my family goes away without me for a day or two, but it does.
    Anyway, on Wednesday, I logged onto my facebook page and found a beautiful picture of my daughter with her hair pulled back, proudly displaying a second piercing in her ear.  At first, I thought it was a joke because there is no way that my wife would allow such a thing without first consulting with me. Now mind you, my response would have been Honey, that is up to you. That is girlie stuff. But that's not the point.
    The point is that we talk about these things. We deliberate about these things. We over-analyze  these things. We don't rush in and put holes in our bodies without weeks of thoughtful angst.
     Perhaps a bit of history will help me make my point. When Gracie was a baby, we actually had a long discussion about changing her from number 1 diapers to number 2 diapers. This, right after my brother, who is only two years older than I, advised us that his oldest son had just chosen to attend college at LaSalle in Philadelphia. Big deal, your kid is going off to college in another state......my baby girl occasionally has poopie leaking out of her diaper and we are considering a move to a larger size. Call us when you have some big news, bro. 
    When it was time for Gracie to go to pre-school, we found the perfect little spot right on my way to work. Perfect, except for the fact that she bawled every morning when we made the turn into the place. I could not sleep and thought to myself....my wife is a stay at home mom; Grace does not need to go to school until next year. She hates it and I hate it! 
     After we had numerous conversations with the ladies that ran the program, they assured us that this was typical. And so my wife convinced me that we should leave her in the program.  That's right, the same wife that could not get Noah out of school fast enough. The same wife that swears that our kids will never again see the inside of a "real" school in her lifetime. The same wife that is the Queen of Homeschooling had a different opinion way back when.
    It turns out that despite our deliberations, we made the wrong decision. The entire staff quit during the Christmas break. To this day, Grace only knows the alphabet through the letter L.
    Based on our disastrous pre-school decision, we put even extra thought into where to send Gracie for kindergarten. Months and months of research and discussion and we chose a Catholic school. We were hopeful that the folks at St. Pius wouldn't ruin our little girl.
    I remember our first parent teacher conference. Cheryl and I were all scrunched down in those little kindergarten chairs all excited to have someone tell us what we already knew, that our daughter was the greatest student to ever come along. The teacher started our conference with words that I have burned in my memory… I know that you both think that Grace is the center of your universe. Unfortunately, Grace thinks she is the center of every one's universe.  
    What? This can't be. Oh, but her teacher was not done. Last week, I was talking to another teacher in the hallway and Grace poked her head out of the doorway and told us that we had been out of the classroom long enough, and didn't we think it was about time to get back to teaching! 
    Once again, we clearly made the wrong decision when we sent Grace to a school that clearly did not understand her brilliance.
    If the ear piercing was not enough, my wife made some other decisions during the family… sans dad… vacation. Upon her return, we were watching TV and Cheryl asked me if I cared if Matthew got an instagram on his iPod. Before I could ask What is instagram? all three kids jumped in and yelled, TOO LATE, HE ALREADY HAS IT! 
    Are you kidding me? Cheryl was doing an ex-post facto permission request. She had already okayed the request, but after being advised that I would like to be included in all decisions, including, but not limited to, body mutilations on our children, she was trying to sneak one past me.  Where does this madness end?
    I sure hope that the MOMMY HEARTS NEW JERSEY tattoo that Noah got on his left bicep can be removed.

    Extra bonus FGF.......
    My baby girl turns 16 this week. Much to my chagrin, she is turning into a baby woman. She challenges my authority, she questions my decisions and she thinks that she has a mind of her own. She reminds me a lot of her mother.
     1.  Grace questioned why a Priest was asking for money for his condo… when he was actually asking for money for his parish in the Congo.
     2.  While potty training, she tried to "piddle" out of her belly button while standing up.
     3.  She gave herself highlights after being expressly told not to and thought her mother wouldn't notice.
     4.  She sprained her thumb while swinging a softball bat and sprained her wrist playing Mario Cart Wii.
     5.  She thinks love is best expressed by a trip to Night Time Pediatrics.
     6.  She sat on her little brother's head and tried to convince us that he put his head there in an effort to frame her.
     7.  She begged and begged to get her first ear piercing and then ran from the mall in tears from the fear of having someone.......pierce her ear.
     8.  She declared war with me by stealing my hair brush.
     9.  She hated the fact that her mother and I "got all popular" at our 30 year high school reunion.
    10. She can't believe that anyone would work forty hours in a single work week.
    11. Her heart belongs in Texas… or if not in Texas, in texting her cousin in Texas.
    12. If she can't go to Texas… she thinks I should buy her a new Mustang.
    13. She confused Mel Gibson with Mel Blanc. All Mels are created equal.
    14. She volunteered our house to an exchange student without ever asking. He wanted to live like an American for four weeks so he sat in front of the TV and watched the Disney channel for ten hours a day.  Oh no, that's right. That was our kids.
    15. She loves morphine for her pain in the butt. She can both be one and have one!
    16. The day she was born was the greatest day in our lives. 4 lbs. 6oz. of the most beautiful baby that I have ever seen (although I must be honest, when I look at pictures, she bore a striking resemblance to E.T.). I fell in love with her the first time I laid eyes on her and love her more and more every day.

    Happy Sweet 16 Gracie!  

Friday, August 17, 2012

Funny Guy Friday… Birthday musings...

     It was on August 16th, many, many years ago, when an event occurred that changed the course of history. Every year on this date, people come from miles around to celebrate a life of an individual that still, to this very day, brings joy to people from all walks of life. Handsome, talented, kind, a trail blazer are all words that have been used to describe our hero. August 16th is my birthday and the individual that I am describing is, of course… Elvis Presley.
     That's right, Elvis died on my birthday.
     I was never a big Elvis fan and even less so because he ruined my birthday. I remember driving down to the beach and hearing about it on the radio. That was all they were talking about… The King is dead. Long live the King!
     Yeah, whatever!
     I was with my family and my best friend getting ready to spend a week in Ocean City. Ahhh... my birthday week at the beach. A time for the spotlight to be on me. Then all of the sudden, Elvis passes out on the toilet and can't be revived and the best laid plans of mice and men blah blah blah.
     Although I haven't heard from him yet, every year I get a call from that same friend wishing me a Happy Elvis Death Day!
    Just for fun, I looked up some articles from the day that Elvis died, and one line caught my attention. It read, Prescription drug abuse compromised his health and he died.  Yeah, I'll say. Dying can be pretty compromising to one's health.
     I resent Elvis and I have always secretly hoped that some celebrity would meet his demise on July 12th so that I, too, could call my friend on his birthday and wish him a Happy Celebrity Death Day. But who could be bigger than the King of Rock and Roll?
     When I first heard on the radio that Michael Jackson had been rushed to the hospital, I was surprised and saddened. But after the initial shock wore off, I am ashamed to admit that I thought to myself, If he can just hang in there for a few more days, I'll have my man. The King of Pop trumps the King of Rock and Roll. Happy Michael Jackson Death Day has a pretty good ring to it! Unfortunately, Michael could not hang on past June 25th.
     I don't know a single person that was born on June 25th.
     So, how does one go about celebrating his birthday in such a fashion that it overshadows a celebrity death day? This year, we went out to dinner on August 15th. That was okay because it pre-empted all the radio tributes, but it was not the same.......it was not really my birthday. This year, I just decided that I was going to treat August 16th just like every other day... why fight it?
     Then I remembered that I might be getting some facebook action.
     You know, I always get reminders about people's birthdays, and I occasionally send out a birthday greeting. Perhaps, I too, will receive some facebook birthday love.
     I checked it out and at first the wishes were slow to arrive but as I returned to facebook throughout the day, I was getting more and more birthday greetings. I received wishes from my family, from friends, from kids that I have coached over the years, from parents of kids that I coached over the years, even from old girlfriends. Heck, I received wishes from kids that I attended elementary school with and have not seen for years.
     Each greeting brought with it some old memory and a smile. Some even brought about a good laugh.
     I am not a huge "modern technology" guy, but this facebook is awesome. I am sold, modern technology is the way to go.
    Thank you to all my facebook well-wishers, you made my day.
    Hey, it gets even better. My daughter Grace just told me she just looked on the Internet and found that several celebrities were actually born on my birthday... and did not die on my birthday. She found that Madonna (the singer, not the Holy Mother) was born on my birthday. And Frank Gifford and his wife Kathie Lee Gifford were both born on my birthday. That is all pretty cool and brought to you via the worldwide web.
    Maybe Elvis isn't so bad. It wasn't really his fault he died on my birthday. Maybe modern technology isn't so bad. It brought me some much-appreciated love and attention.    
    Well, it is getting late and I am going to bed.
    Who would have thought that modern technology would be the key to my forgiving Elvis and to my having a happy birthday?

   You are not going to believe this... I just got a text from my best friend:  Just passed Ocean Pines, remembered to wish you a Happy Elvis Death Day! 

   Except for the thank you's, forget about what I just said.
   I hate Elvis Presley!  I hate modern technology!

Friday, August 10, 2012

Funny Guy Friday… Back to Camp Maria… It's a Wonderful Life...

     As you may recall from a previous Funny Guy Friday, every year we go on a Catholic family retreat at Camp Maria in Saint Mary's County, Maryland. It is a great time to renew our Catholic faith and spend quality time with great families who share our same values.
     Fortunately, staying up late, playing corn hole, playing basketball, swimming, belly flopping, canoeing, and having an occasional adult beverage are all good Catholic values. It is fun, it is spiritual, it is refreshing.
     Restful… hmmm... not so much.
     This year's theme was It's a Wonderful Life. Each year, the adults kick off the retreat by having each person review what has happened to them and their family since the last retreat. This year, I thought, This should be good... although we all have our ups and downs... for the most part, everyone's problems should be minimal. This should only take 30 minutes, tops.
     Oh no, I thought, Wait a second……this is not good……not good at all. Sitting to the priest's immediate right was our friend Dave. We all knew what was coming because it has been a tough year for Dave. Earlier this year, he was diagnosed with a very aggressive form of sarcoma, and after two operations to remove tumors, he has been going through intense radiation and chemotherapy. The only reason he was able to attend the retreat was because he was in between chemo treatments and wasn't set to go back to the hospital for another round until the following week.
    As if to communicate by telepathy to the priest, I willed, Please start to your left! Please start to your left! Please start to your left!
    Dang, he didn't. He started to his right.
    Wow, what a way to start off the retreat! Seriously, do we start off with the story about cancer? Can't we just hear about the lady whose cat died, or the poor sap that did not get a promotion at work? Those are good lead-off hitters… traumatic life events, but they pale in comparison to the Big C. Dave should have been our clean-up hitter.
     He started off slow but picked up the pace quickly. He spoke about the impact that this has had on his family and what they have learned. He told stories of the hundreds of people who have offered support and assistance for his family. He told about prayers and letters that he has received from good friends and from people that he hardly knows. He commented that the support that he has received was both overwhelming and humbling to him and to his wife. I slunked down in my chair hoping that Cheryl had sent over a dinner or sent a card or had done something because I knew that I had not.
     Dave's father-in-law was sitting to Dave's immediate right, and he too had been diagnosed with cancer right after Dave's diagnosis. Some form of skin cancer, I believe. Dave told the story of how his father-in-law had come up to him at one of his boys' games and told him that it looked like they would be going through chemo together.
     It turns out that the father-in-law's cancer did not require chemo, and Dave joked that his father-in-law had cancer for 36 hours. His father-in-law did, however, shave his head when Dave started to lose his hair. He thought it might be a great sign of solidarity for Dave, and he thought it would help the kids realize that losing one's hair was "no big deal." I wonder if my father-in-law would shave his head for me!  
     Anyway, in the course of his talk, Dave said that what he has gone through has helped him realize what is really important in life. He is the father of six young kids, and we all knew that he had already realized what was important before he got cancer.
     I think we all know but we tend to put things in proper perspective when faced with this type of hardship. I mean, I know that it is not really a big deal when a kid fails to tag up at third on a fly ball with less than two outs and we lose a ten-year-old baseball game by one run. I know that I shouldn't get irritated when I have no clean clothes to wear. I know I shouldn't get so upset when the kids don't put away their dishes. Those things are really kind of silly.
     Actually, the not-tagging-up example is kind of serious. I mean we did practice it almost every night. I digress.
     Dave's not even the only one in our group who is battling cancer. Last year, during circle time, our friend Ken shared his struggles with throat cancer. Young father of nine kids whose faithfulness endures.
     This year, when Dave got sick, Cheryl pointed out that every man that goes on our retreat is the same kind of guy. They are good fathers, good husbands, and faithful men. I was quick to point out that I was way more handsome, a better father, husband and way more faithful than those other guys. Oh, and did I mention how ridiculously competitive those jokers are? More on that in a minute.
     Cheryl is correct when she points out that what happened to Dave and to his family could have happened to any one of us. Any one of us could be going through radiation and chemotherapy. Again, some of us would look better with no hair than others, but that is not important.
     When it was my time to tell about my year, I pointed out that the previous year had gone pretty well. One thing that did strike me over the year was that I learned that my kids had compassion for other people. This compassion was evident with their reaction to Dave's cancer. Specifically, they cared about Dave. They worried about his health and they prayed for his recovery. They considered Dave's children and thought about how this was affecting them.
     This is funny because they rarely show compassion for me. You're getting old. On your first date, did you go pick mom up on your new dinosaur?  Dad, do you remember watching Hercules in the first Olympics?    
    So you may wonder how Dave is doing and how his cancer has affected how he conducts himself. Well, let me start with this… before getting cancer, he was funny, he was animated, he was loud, he was super competitive. He would stay up late, play corn hole, play basketball; he would swim, belly flop, canoe, and he would enjoy an occasional adult beverage.
     Since getting cancer and undergoing his treatment, he is now funny, animated, loud, and super competitive. He stays up late, he plays corn hole, he swims, and he enjoys an occasional adult beverage.
     So from what I could see, the cancer has prevented him from belly flopping, canoeing (but I think that was only because his wife stopped him) and playing basketball. Yep, a complete lifestyle change for the poor guy.
     For those of you that do not know what corn hole is, it is a game played with two boards and eight bean bags. Each board has a hole in it, and you place the boards about ten yards apart and toss the bean bags. You get three points for a shot in the hole and one point for getting it to land on the board. Sounds kind of dumb doesn't it?  
     Well, it is dumb, and I'm not just saying that because I lost every game that I played. Besides, they were foot-faulting like crazy and no one was calling it. Anyway, I played this game until 2 a.m. That sounds crazy but what is even crazier is that everyone else continued to play long after I went to bed.
     Dave is the only one who shot a perfect score… all four bags in the hole for a perfect 12 points. Don't say anything to him, but we let him do it… you know, because of his "little disability."
     As I left Camp Maria, I realized how blessed we were to have Dave and his family with us for the weekend. He was a great example both to the adults (I mean seriously, a perfect 12 points in corn hole) and to the kids.
     We all got to see that he has not let anything change the way that he approaches his life. He is still a great dad, a great husband, a good friend and above all else, he still has faith in God. His father-in-law shaved his head to show that "it is no big deal." Dave showed up at Camp Maria and showed us that no matter what "it" may be… "it is no big deal."
     My life is pretty good. My health is good, and I have a great family. There are times when little things don't go my way, but I never think to myself, why me? In fact, I often wonder why not me? I am sure that God has some doozy of an event in store for me. I am hopeful that whatever that event might be, I will be prepared. I am hopeful that no matter what it is, I, like Dave, will realize that I still have a pretty Wonderful Life. 
    Another great year at Camp Maria!

Monday, August 6, 2012

Funny Guy Friday… High school reunion... part deux...

     Funny Guy Friday is written each week by my husband Mark.  So, I married a funny guy.
     A couple of weekends ago Cheryl and I were invited to a happy hour for the thirty-year reunion of our high school Class of 1982. As you may recall, last year, Cheryl and I attended our thirty-year reunion only to find out that I used to be "kind of a big deal" way back in 1981.
     I struggled about whether or not we should go to this event because we graduated a year before these folks and I was not sure I wanted to crash their party.
     I would point out that I had no problem tagging along with my best friend at his reunion party the previous year for the Class of 1980. It was always cool to hang out with seniors. On the other hand, you didn't want to be caught dead hanging out with a bunch of sophomores.
     Cheryl asked if I knew any of the folks from this reunion class and I reminded her that I dated a few girls from that class. Despite my previous romantic history and my hesitation to hang out with underclassmen, we decided that we would go.
     Cheryl spent a little extra time getting herself duded up… I  can only assume that this was some attempt for her to justify my decision to marry her instead of some of these other young ladies. She asked if she should wear her hair curly or straight, and I responded, What difference does it make? You are a senior and they are all juniors.
     What a difference a year makes in the life of a high school kid.
     Anyway, as we made our entrance, I immediately bumped into a young lady that was good friends with a girl that I dated in high school. She greeted me with no hesitation at all. Yes, indeed, I was just as popular with these folks as I was with my own classmates.
     She asked me how I was doing, where I worked, how many kids I had. You know, all the questions that you ask when… when… when you are making small talk with someone that you don't really remember. The first sign of recognition was when I told her that I had married Cheryl.
    Oh yeah, pretty girl with long dark hair and a beautiful smile… what's your name again? 
    Ouch! My night was off to a rough start.
    No problem, this was the first person out of the gate. My night would get better… so I thought.
    As I cruised the bar area, I saw the gal that I dated for most of my senior year. Thankfully, she did remember me. She was talking to another good friend of hers that I had seen a time or two since we all graduated. She greeted me and then leaned in, for what I thought was a hello kiss on the cheek. As we neared the actual cheek kissing position, she put her lips near my ear and asked… What was your name again?  Mike, right? 
    I swear that I actually kissed and whiffed before advising her that she was close, but my name is Mark. That "air kiss" may have been the most humiliating moment of the night, but there was more to come.
    I ran into another girl that I had taken out on one date years ago. She mentioned that she had had a really good time on that date. Unfortunately, it begged the question, Why wasn't there a second date if the first one was so good? 
     In law school, they teach you never to ask a question to which you don't already know the answer. I should have relied on that bit of advice before asking.
     Apparently, I, the most insecure person that you ever would have wanted to meet back then, mentioned over dinner that night that I knew that she had a crush on me long before we ever went out. This made her feel somewhat embarrassed. It had me now thinking how in the world do you work that into the conversation?
     Excuse me, would you please be a dear and pass me the salt?… By the way, I knew you had a crush on me before I ever asked you out. Oh, the pepper too. Thanks! 
     Had I, in fact, said such a thing, it probably did have her thinking at the time that I was a conceited idiot. I, of course, deny making such a comment, and mentioned my general lack of confidence and overall insecurity at the time. Why would I say that? But she was absolutely sure.
     Cheryl assures me that she must have remembered it accurately. That is something that a girl would remember.
     Women! Half of them can't remember your name and the other half remember some stupid comment that you made on a date more than twenty-five years ago. Go figure.
     Anyway, this gal introduced Cheryl and me to her husband. He is a very nice guy, and he mentioned that he has read some of my Funny Guy Fridays.
     This made me feel a bit uneasy. I mean, I write this stuff but I am not really sure who reads it, or if they know my formula of 85% truth, 10% exaggerated and 5% made up? Does he know that I asked a check out girl at Toys-R-Us if she had double Ds? Does he know that I drove off to work, waving to neighbors, with a car seat on top of my car? Does he know that I shot my seven year old in the rear end with an air soft gun?
    Come to think of it, all those things are 100% true.
    He was very complimentary (remember I said he was a real nice guy… and smart with a great sense of what is funny and clever) and they ended up sitting with us later in the evening when we sat to eat dinner. During the course of the conversation, we asked how they met. After hearing their story, I began to tell them how Cheryl and I met. As I started, they both mentioned that they already knew that because they read it in Funny Guy Friday. Oh, okay. This put us at a distinct disadvantage. They both knew way more about us than we knew about them.
     Every time I started to tell a story, I had to ask people that I had either just met for the first time or had not seen in more than twenty years, Have you heard this one yet? 
     As it turned out, we had a great time with them, and as they got up to leave our table, I felt that I had so much more to tell them. I entertained the thought of grabbing a napkin and jotting down a few titles to more Funny Guy Fridays... you know... so they could check 'em out at a later date.
     As the night wound down, I met up with a guy that I used to play baseball with. Someone snapped our picture and advised that it was going to go on facebook. This prompted my buddy to say that he doesn't get facebook or blogging. He even went so far as to say, Why would people write about their lives? Really... who cares?
     I er, uh well… I… agree. Who does such a thing? I mean... next thing you know, people will be... you know, uh, like, uh… jotting down links to their blogs instead of having regular conversations. Stupid, right? 
     As we left the party, a few thoughts went through my mind. First of all, everything happens for a reason. You say stupid things on a date so that you wind up with the exact person you are supposed to be with. Of course, I am talking about that girl and her husband that we ate dinner with. They were perfect for each other.
     Okay, okay, okay... I guess I was also meant to be with Cheryl, too.
     Second, the girls in the class of 1982 have terrible memories. Seriously, how could they forget a guy as popular as "Mike."
     Finally, we had a great time with the class of '82 but… THE CLASS OF 1981 ROCKS!

Wednesday, August 1, 2012

Milton Friedman...

Wise man. Love him. Worth the watch.

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