Parking Dilemma

Tell me something. What infuriates you more than not finding a parking spot when your in a hurry, or even worse when its raining? Sure, its not the worst thing in the world but at the time, nothing could make your blood pressure go up more, aside from realizing after the fact that the store your hoping to do some shopping in is closed.

Here's my experience.

Late last week, the wife had me run to the grocery store for a few odds and ends. The grocery store and I don't get along (see this previous blog entry) so before leaving the driveway, I always have a plan of attack which includes mapping out in my head where the items are in the store, in what order to pick them up and most importantly, where the best parking spots might be given the day of the week, the time of day and the weather. All of this is done in an effort to expedite the process of grocery shopping which I dispise a great deal. My focus here is on parking so let's get to it.

I entered the parking lot of the grocery store and started my search for a spot. Like most people, I made a bee-line down to the spots closest to the store's entrance praying for that ever-elusive spot next to the handicap spaces. (Of course, 99% of the time they're occupied but I'd kick myself if I never bothered to look only to find out moments later that someone else scored the spot. Believe me, that's a let-down that I've experienced far too many times to let it happen again. So I had to eliminate that obvious close spot before taking the more realistic approach further away from the store's entrance. This time, no spot existed so I continued my search.

Up an down the rows of vehicles and still no luck. I could feel my patience running thin. After all, I came to the store for a handful of items and now, its turning into a grueling expedition analogous to climbing Mount Everest.

All of a sudden like a diamond in the rough, like a beacon of light shining down on a time of despair, (sorry, way too many metaphors) the front of a vacant parking spot glistened with my name on it. It was almost as if the Lord himself willed that spot to be vacant at that very time so that I would be privy to it. Feeling as if I won the lottery, I sped up to the spot giddy with excitement and started to turn the wheel when something became clearly visible in the spot. No, it wasn't a person or a shopping cart. IT WAS A CAR!

I slammed on the brakes only a few feet from slamming into a brand new Ford Focus! How in the hell is this possible? Granted, I'm not a fan of the Focus but if I would have continued into the spot, I would have been responsible for the damage to the car!

Back in the 1970s when the huge, gas guzzling Lincolns and Buicks roamed the streets, you knew when these behemoths occupied a spot. Their 8 foot long trunks would stick out giving an oncoming driver a conspicuous clue that the spot was not vacated. Now in their place, Toyota Corollas, Ford Focus' and motorcycles take up most of the spots.

The problem is you can pull one of these subcompacts into a spot and if surrounded by a truck and a Cadillac, the subcompact becomes completely obscured, totally hidden from aggressive parking spot hunters like myself. Is it my fault that the spot was too small? I say no. In principle, the designers of the parking lot spaces should be held liable for the damage due to faulty design.

We all know that there are more parking lots than ever before. However, what hasn't changed is the size of the parking spaces. Nope, these rectangular oases on the vast plain of asphault surrounding your favorite store, for the most part, have stayed the same size; their dimensions frozen firmly in place since the first strip malls reared their ugly head.

How many accidents are caused by this blatant disregard for parking lot space design etiquette? I'm sure the department of transportation has no such statistics illustrating this but trust me, it happens more often than you think.

Back to my parkin saga.

After a verbal tirade which included a multitude of four-letter words, I backed out and continued on my search for a spot feeling dejected and frankly stupid. Sure, some of this was my fault. I should have seen the car in the spot. I get that. But one simple fix if implemented could have eliminated my parking lot rage entirely. That is to create parking spots for smaller cars separate from larger cars. Sounds simple, right?

You know there would be an outcry because some people driving certain cars would feel that they would be singled out. Too many people would be offended and eventually it would snowball into a political issue which would ultimately result in an appearance by Jesse Jackson. A simple fix to a parking lot problem would end up being transformed into a metaphor of what's wrong with the country. As quickly as my parking space remedy was suggested, it would be swept under a thick bureaucratic rug never to be heard from again. Which brings me right back to square one: A man on a trip to the grocery store without a place to park.

So, what did I learn from this? Simple. Get a neighbor's handicap sticker that way you get the best parking spots ALL OF THE TIME!

The Face of Constipation

Tell me you've never made these faces before when things weren't "flowing easy". Yeah, you better believe I'm going to save these pictures until his high school graduation and his wedding day and bust them out for all of his friends to see!

The Anniversary of Perfection

If your not a baseball fan then you might not know what a "Perfect Game" is. Imagine getting every hitter out--all 27 of them. Since 1876 (the start of organized Major League Baseball), there have been more than 350,000 games played, a perfect game has occured only 17 times (0.04%). Of those 17 occurances, only 10 times in the American League since 1901. One of these occurances was on May 15, 1981 at Cleveland Municiple Stadium in front of 7,200 fans (more an 500,000 claim to be there) when Len Barker pitched one of these perfect games.

Now, an owner of a construction company in suburban Cleveland, he reminisces back 25 years ago about this great achievement that happened on the most imperfect of nights.

Below is a picture of the signed scorebook from that night.

Are you a "HIP" person? 6 Simple Questions

Signs that the younger generation sees you as not cool and totally oblivious to the main stream world around you:

1. When using a video camera, you keep the lense cap attached to the camera via the cord so that it dangles in front as you shoot a family reunion or Christmas party.

Just take the damn thing off the cord. Either that or buy a camera that had a lense cover built in. This will save you countless hours of ridicule by distant relatives who have nothing better to do on a two hour car ride back home.

2. You use the word "cool" and "awesome".

Yes, these descriptive words were super-popular back in the 1970s and 1980s but now in 2006, it's become so intertwinned in the lexicon of most people that everyone from Aunt Gertrude to Grandma Ester drops a "that's pretty cool" blast every once and a while. Here's a tip: If a relative born before 1950 uses "cool" to describe something, its probably a good idea to retire it from your repertoire.

3. You wear white socks that are higher than your ankles.

Don't reinact an episode of Eight is Enough by pretending your big brother David who always sported high white socks with three orange horizontal stripes on top. This is almost as bad a wearing black socks while mowing the lawn. This rule can be waved if doing outdoors work such as spreading mulch or using a chain saw minus the orange stripes.

4. You send forwarded emails.

As mentioned in a previous blog entry, performing this activity only reinforces the fact, whether true or not, that you believe this email thing is brand new technology. The truth: EMAIL has been around since the 1960s. The "@" sign was used in emails in the 1970s. In other words, sending forwarded emails shows your not hip. That's not good.

5. You don't know who Jessica Simpson is.

She's dumb but incredibly popular. (At the very least, she plays a dumb blonde on TV) A correct way to rectify this is to watch Entertainment Tonight. They're sure to have some story on her divorce from her "no talent" husband Nick Lachey. You'll get all of the information you need--and some you won't--on Jessica Simpson or enough to fill a few lines on a short answer test.

6. You wear shorts that show your legs above the knee.

I've made this mistake a few times and was corrected by my collegiate brother. This isn't 1990 anymore, or 1995 for that matter. Seeing your quad (quadricep) below the bottom of your shorts is almost as bad as wearing plaid shorts found at Goodwill.
Shorts must at the very least cover ALL of your leg above your knee. It doesn't have to necessarily cover the knee but it should be long enough so that someone doesn't mistake you for John Stockton--all-time NBA Assists leader. (See Picture Above) Styles have changed so step it up.

A Disturbing Workout

If anyone knows me, they know that I am a big proponent of a healthy lifestyle. I lift weights and do cardio-exercise on a regular basis and eat a good balance of protein, carbohydrates and fats to maximize my energy level. Its a challenge keeping up with the rigors of physical fitness especially now that I am a father with other activities preoccupying my time more than ever. Not that I'm trying to sound like Jack LaLanne, who stays physically active by pulling boats at the young age of 92 but staying in shape is the best thing you can do for yourself. If you are young and one of your food groups is french fries with ranch dressing then your signing your death wish but I digress.

That brings me to this past Monday. I had just finished working out at the community center and was in the process of getting cleaned up in the locker room when all of a sudden, a group of aged men entered the locker room after finishing their "workout". They were all talking about what ailed them. In fact, one guy was commenting how he was pleased that he didn't walk like a duck anymore...whatever that means. But most of the dialogue revolved around retirement, complaints about their "old ladies", their discovery of the internet and how this wasn't around back in the 40s, and on and on and on...

At this point, I felt like a kid at the grown-up table at Christmas dinner greatful that I was there but knew damn well that I didn't fit in. Hell, I was born when these guys were approaching 60!

Then the worst thing that could happen in a locker room full of old men actually happened. As if ordered by some omnipotent force from above, they all disrobed down to NOTHING! No, not down to underwear...down to bare ass!

This is what super-old men should be doing.

You're probably wondering why I looked in the first place. Well, its hard not to when you have six old men with a combined age of 498 walking around the locker room buck-naked taking half steps. Try not looking at a 15 car pileup on the interstate. See, that was my conundrum that fateful day. Believe me. A room of old men with wrinkly, stretched out skin and fat hanging down all over the place was the last image I wanted my eyes to capture and my optic nerve to send to my brain to process.

Oh, the humanity!

This brings me to my "moment de vérité" (moment of truth):

Why are men over the age of 80 working out in the first place?

Honestly, is working out going to change anything at this point? I mean, once you've hit 80, does your doctor all of a sudden tell you "You know, you might want to get on a fitness regimen"? No.

I've never been to my grandmothers' doctor's appointments but I'm fairly certain that the conversations had nothing to do with "pumping iron" or cardiovascular training. Maybe I'm wrong but I don't think this happens.

The operative word in all of this is YOUNG. If your just out of college and you smoke then that isn't good. If your in your 30s and your starting a family and you eat greasy burgers with a few beers 4 times a week, that probably isn't good either. If your in your 40s and 50s (the age when heart attack chances become greater) and your daily exercise consists of flipping through the channels then your not too wise. If your in your 60s and 70s and you do all of the above then your arteries could very well look like my basement plumbing.

In other words, working out when your under the age of 80 is the best thing you can do for yourself. Once you hit 80, what's the point. Yes, I know that you need to stay active at an elderly age but that shouldn't culminate in a trip to the locker room to chat NAKED! Play bingo or hang out at the mall or something. Walk down to the Piercing Pagoda Kiosk or the Orange Julius in the footcourt for exercise. Now I'm scarred for life because six old men decided to dawn their plaid shorts with an "I'm a grandpa" shirt (no doubt bought at Myrtle Beach) topped off with black socks and velcro sneakers to work up a sweat only to strip down and lumber around the locker room letting it all hang out. Why can't some hot chick (or chicks) saunter in with their clothes off?

I can tell you this. When I hit the magical 80--assuming I live that long--I'm taking up smoking, drinking scotch everyday and eating food that has all of that trans-fatty stuff that makes it taste so good. I'm purchasing a recliner and super-big plasma TV (or whatever the high end TV is in the year 2054) and I'm only moving to go to the bathroom assuming that I can still go unassisted. Why? Because what's broke by then ain't going to get much better. Why not have some fun? A friend of mine said he's switching sexual orientations at 85 just for fun. But that's a story for another time.

Today, there are many issues in our society that the president now and future presidents will have to tackle. The high cost of health care, oil prices, the Iraq war just to name a few. However, if I were president, I would make it illegal for men over the age of 80 to be naked in the presense of others. People say television and video games are damaging the minds of our young people. Nope. Catching an unwanted glimpse of a/many naked, flabby old men is definitely at the top of the list!

9 Month Nathan Pics with Extras

Nathan - 9 Month

Pimp Nathan

Toothy Nathan

Nathan - 6 Month

Interesting Baseball Play: K767

Every once in a while, I will run across a most unorthodox baseball play that catches my eye. This one--K767--which means Strikeout: Leftfielder to Shortstop to Leftfielder is probably the strangest one yet. Here's how it happened:

In the game of April 25, 1970, Tiger pitcher Earl Wilson struck out to end the seventh inning in the Twin Cities. Or so it appeared to everyone except Detroit third base coach Grover Resinger. He saw that Twins catcher Paul Ratliff trapped the pitch in the dirt, did not tag Wilson and rolled the ball to the mound. Resinger told Wilson to start running as most of the Twins entered the dugout. Earl got to first easily and headed for second. Since no one interfered with him, he started for third. By this time, Brant Alyea, who was trotting in from left field, heard Resinger shouting at Wilson. Alyea hustled to the mound but had trouble picking up the ball. Wilson headed for home where Twins Leo Cardenas and Ratliff had returned. Alyea finally picked up the ball and threw to Cardenas, the shortstop. Wilson turned back to third but was tagged out by Alyea for a K767. Rookie catcher Ratliff was charged with an error. After the game, Detroit catcher Bill Freehan said "If Alyea had been hustling, Earl might have made it [home]. Tell him [Alyea] to start coming in and off the field a little quicker." The aftermath of the story is that Wilson pulled a hamstring muscle running the bases and had to leave the game.

Nathan Picture Update

Nathan's 6 month picture

Nathan coloring Easter Eggs

Nathan developing an attitude toward his jacket

Another picture of Nathan coloring Easter Eggs in the cool weather

Letting kids win

A week has passed since my run-in with my wife's 8 year old cousin at her aunt's house. Don't get me wrong. He's a great kid with an outgoing personality and a quick witted, fast jabbing motor-mouth that can make your head spin. But you see, like a lot of young kids nowadays he likes to talk smack. If your unfamiliar with this term, it's the present day synonym for "talking trash" or "running your mouth." Back in the day, trash talking was taken purely in a serious context. Now, you can talk "smack" in a sarcastic sense (assuming the recipient knows your joking) and just have fun with it without worrying about someone cracking you upside the head (most of the time).

My wife's little cousin's smack talk is a continuous stream of "your old, you can't beat me" garbage that if left unchecked can get to you like nails on a chalkboard. It doesn't matter whether its playing catch, playing putt-putt in the basement, darts or a quick game of Candy Land, he runs his mouth like he's a professional boxer at a press conference. Granted, he's not dropping any "F-Bombs" or any other "colorful" language surrounded by clever colloquialisms. But it gets to be pretty unnerving knowing that an 8 year old is getting under your skin.

I can get by his 2nd grade smack talk. Really, its not that hard. After all, he's just a 2nd grader. The question isn't the smack in and of itself, its when-push-comes-to-shove, do I let him win at the respective game or do I play full throttle and utterly destroy him potentially causing irreputable harm to his self confidence?

...Damn right the latter was my answer!

So the first game he wanted to play was putt-putt in the basement. After 45 minutes of begging, I finally acquiesced. His aunt had one of those gismos that kicks the ball back to you if you hit it into the opening in the front. So we lined up with three balls a piece and we hit. I meticulously lined up my shot trying to navigate around a few chairs treating this as if it was sudden death at Augusta. I had just eaten a big dinner so my flexibility when bending over to putt was analogous to trying to bend a telephone poll but I managed.

I hit all three shots and he made only one. I was pumped. I however had just a split second to savor my victory when the smack talking second grader otherwise known as my wife's cousin began another round of smack.

"You didn't hit right!"

"What are you talking about?" I replied.

"You were closer. You automatically lose."

Normally I wouldn't care if I won or lost. After all, we were just passing some time after dinner. But this occasion was different. I was sick of taking a backseat to this 3 foot 10 inch diarrhea-mouthed kid.

"Let's play again", I said.

"Fine."

Against my better judgment, I let him win. Now, he accused me of "letting him win". What do I have to do to shut this kid up?

"Let play air hockey!" he exclaimed.

"Let me finish my putt." I countered.

"Nope, its air hockey time!" he stated.

Like a loyal follower, I conceded my viewpoint and headed to the air hockey table. We played 3 games and I won 2 of them so it was my turn to talk smack.

"You owe me one hundred dollars", I ordered.

"What! I do not", he fired back.

"Yep, go get your dad to open his wallet and fork over one hundred dollars."

"No way. Let's play darts...let me get a drink first."

This kid is a runaway freight train. So I waited for him to get a drink....I waited....I waited...and I waited somemore and nothing. I went upstairs and found him sitting in front of the TV watching a ballgame. The freight train had come to a halt.

Somehow I felt like I won the battle. Sure, the kid cousin more or less forgot about our fierce putt-putt/air hockey battle in the basement but I hadn't. The bottom line was that I was the victor in both the physical and mental battle. No second grader will succeed in getting into my head ultimately controlling my every move...or would he?

The putt-putt game was played on carpeting in a basement that wasn't heated with a 20 year old television in the corner and I actually felt as if I won the Masters. I walked out of my wife's aunt's house actually believing that I won money playing air hockey! What was wrong with me?

The truth is that kids, regardless how well-spoken they are or how much smack they can run have an innate ability to manipulate you psychologically. You don't realize it at the time but in retrospect, most kids have you hook-line-and-sinker the entire time. As adults, we just aren't aware of it until its too late. How else do you explain that fifty dollar playset I just brought for my 9 month old who never uttered a word requesting it?

Nathan 9 Month Pictures/Future Teacher Conversation Below Pics

How my young chap is growing and showing SO much personality. Yes, he's way too happy. I am counting the days when he switches over to whole milk.

Can you say $3 for a gallon of whole milk versus $100 per month for formula?