If you're a parent, then you know there's nothing quite as memorable as your child's first birthday. The way their eyes light up when they see the cake, how they giggle when you use the party blowers, and the way your house burns down from poor candle placement. It truly is unforgettable.
All of this reminds me of the first birthday party I threw for my daughter. It was a warm, sunny day and I was out shopping for the perfect gift at Ace Hardware. If I know babies like I think I do, then they love home improvement. Rummaging through the aisles I couldn't decide which my daughter would enjoy more, electrical tape, PVC piping, or door hinges. I tried asking the opinion of one of the staff members, but by the confused look on their face, I could tell they thought they were all great.
Once I got home I found my wife putting up streamers of all colors and could smell cake baking in the oven. She cast a bit of an odd look on her face when she saw the Ace bag in my hand, but I just gave her a wink and slipped away into the bedroom to wrap the gifts. While in the bedroom I discovered we didn't have any wrapping paper, so I figured one of my old tube socks from the hamper would do just fine.
As my wife pulled the cake out of the oven, I suddenly realized I had forgotten the birthday candles while I was out shopping. Nervously darting my eyes around the room, I tried to come up with a backup plan before I had to reveal my forgetfulness. Then, just as my wife was about to ask me to light the cake, I remembered I had a secret stash of firecrackers in the garage. It was either that or the road flares I kept in my truck. And even though I'm a big fan of safety, road flares just don't scream, "Party!" quite like their more festive counterpart.
While my better half, or perhaps better whole, was in the other room getting our daughter, I spelled the word "ONE" with my replacement 'candles' and stood back in satisfaction. Once we were all in the kitchen, gathered around the table, I shut off the lights and lit the cake. I could tell my wife knew something was up with the candles by the way she began to say, "Why do they sound like-?" But before she could finish the sentence there was a tremendous "POP, POP, POP, SNAP, POP, POP, OH MY GOD, POP, POP, WHAT DID YOU, POP, SNAP, POP, POP!!!!" as frosting went flinging in every direction.
When the smoke cleared it appeared that 75% of the frosting had landed on my wife's face. I tried to lighten the mood by saying, "Wow, what are the odds that most of it would land right there!?" But she wasn't in the mood to discuss probabilities. I screwed up big time and needed to redeem myself, pronto. Luckily, I knew just the thing. As I confidently looked at my wife's agitated face, I revealed the old tube sock and placed it on the table with a smile. "What's this?", she snapped. That's when I pulled out electrical tape, door hinges, and a package of wood screws from inside the sock. My wife was so pleased with my thoughtful gift choices that she was forced to storm out of the room to conceal her excitement.
Needless to say, I was no longer allowed to buy gifts, light candles, or be present at subsequent birthday parties. Of course, that's not going to stop me from giving my daughter the keys to a brand new, 2010 hot air balloon for her sixteenth birthday. After all, what's a party without balloons?
Friday, January 29, 2010
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Going on Vacation
Many people see flying someplace for vacation as a fun, relaxing time. But you shouldn't forget that annoying, little mishaps can happen at any moment. There could be a lot of flight delays, you're luggage could get lost, or, without any heads up from the pilot, you could crash land on top of a mountain and have to eat each other.
Because I'm so fearful of the lost luggage thing, I pack as much as possible into my carry-on and stuff whatever is left over into my shirt. After this is completed I drive to the airport and buy a ticket for a warm, tropical destination like Fiji, the Bahamas, or Idaho.
While sitting on the plane, I can tell the other passengers are nervous by the way they get all panicked whenever the plane makes a strange sound. To help take the edge off I say things like, "Flying is the safest way to travel. You should be more worried about the airline food than the flight. I had a dream that the plane crashed, and as we all know, dreams aren't real."
Once we're in the air I try to get everyone involved by playing simple, plane-friendly games like 20 questions or dodgeball. People are usually a little reluctant at first, but after I peg them in the face a few times, they get really into it and start chucking their coffee mugs and fists at me. That's the spirit. One of the things I like most about flying is that no matter how disruptive or annoying you are, they almost never throw you out.
When we land at our destination, I look for some food, a place to stay, and a job because I don't have enough money for the first two things. Next, I become a bum on the street. As it turns out, I'm not sure where I am and don't speak the language. Getting work is very difficult when you have to communicate using nothing but hand gestures and Morse Code. Though, how someone can't figure out what I mean when I rub my stomach and go, "Beep, beeeeeep, beeep, beep, beeeeeeeeeeeep" is beyond me.
Eventually, I'll get lucky and land a highly lucrative job in some sweat shop that pays you in marbles. After doing the math I'll decide to register for citizenship in this new country because it's going to take me 45 years to raise enough marbles for a plane ticket home. As you can see, when I go on vacation, it's not really a vacation, but a way of life.
Because I'm so fearful of the lost luggage thing, I pack as much as possible into my carry-on and stuff whatever is left over into my shirt. After this is completed I drive to the airport and buy a ticket for a warm, tropical destination like Fiji, the Bahamas, or Idaho.
While sitting on the plane, I can tell the other passengers are nervous by the way they get all panicked whenever the plane makes a strange sound. To help take the edge off I say things like, "Flying is the safest way to travel. You should be more worried about the airline food than the flight. I had a dream that the plane crashed, and as we all know, dreams aren't real."
Once we're in the air I try to get everyone involved by playing simple, plane-friendly games like 20 questions or dodgeball. People are usually a little reluctant at first, but after I peg them in the face a few times, they get really into it and start chucking their coffee mugs and fists at me. That's the spirit. One of the things I like most about flying is that no matter how disruptive or annoying you are, they almost never throw you out.
When we land at our destination, I look for some food, a place to stay, and a job because I don't have enough money for the first two things. Next, I become a bum on the street. As it turns out, I'm not sure where I am and don't speak the language. Getting work is very difficult when you have to communicate using nothing but hand gestures and Morse Code. Though, how someone can't figure out what I mean when I rub my stomach and go, "Beep, beeeeeep, beeep, beep, beeeeeeeeeeeep" is beyond me.
Eventually, I'll get lucky and land a highly lucrative job in some sweat shop that pays you in marbles. After doing the math I'll decide to register for citizenship in this new country because it's going to take me 45 years to raise enough marbles for a plane ticket home. As you can see, when I go on vacation, it's not really a vacation, but a way of life.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Being Healthy
If you've ever looked at yourself in the mirror, you've probably had one of three reactions: 1. "I look amazing with my beautiful skin and toned figure!" 2. "I may have gotten a bit hefty, but I'm still as strong as an ox!" 3. "I don't remember being a pig/cow mix." But whatever your reaction, it's never to late to look and feel great.
Whenever I start to worry that I'm getting bigger, I frantically try to find some other logical explanation for what's happening to me. Couldn't it be, for instance, that everything else is getting smaller? If my logic doesn't work, I try to stay positive by reminding myself that getting in shape is as easy as dieting, exercise, and liposuction. Using all of these techniques in unison can be a real fat buster.
First, I'll talk about dieting. This is where I avoid putting anything into my body that could cause unhealthy weight gain, like food. Once I've successfully weened myself from food dependency, I'll notice how much easier it is to shed pounds. If I keep it up I'll be admitted into a hospital in no time. This is societies way of saying, "OK, you're getting a little too good at this." I'll take that as a compliment.
Once I have my weight at a respectable 73 lbs, it's time to incorporate some exercise. Before getting a gym membership, however, I need to start eating again. Without any of the energy that food provides, it becomes extremely difficult to do strenuous activities like running, weightlifting, and walking. If I can't walk, chances are I won't be able to run either.
I can't just eat anything I want, though. I have to play it smart by eating only the smallest group at the top of the food pyramid. This will ensure I don't overeat. And once my diet consists of nothing but cookies, ice cream, and chocolate covered meat balls, I'll feel a tremendous amount of energy coursing through my body.
After I'm a big, blubbery ball of energy, I can hit the gym hard. As I walk through the doors of the fitness center at a wholesome 409 lbs, I'll feel all eyes on me. By the way all of the in shape members stare at my heavy breathing, already perspiring brow, and butter-stained sweatpants, I'll know what they're thinking, "This guy has so much more potential to lose weight than I do, the show off." Now I have the upper hand.
While working out I need to keep the 'No pain, no gain' motto in my head. Getting in shape is all about forcing the body to do what it doesn't want to do. And since I've just been shot off the back of a treadmill and into the wall, I can rest assured it didn't want to do that.
All I have to do is keep up the hard work and I'll be back to fighting shape in no time. And when that day comes, I'll be able to do all of the things I used to enjoy, like biking, going to the movies, and standing up. Variety truly is the spice of life.
Whenever I start to worry that I'm getting bigger, I frantically try to find some other logical explanation for what's happening to me. Couldn't it be, for instance, that everything else is getting smaller? If my logic doesn't work, I try to stay positive by reminding myself that getting in shape is as easy as dieting, exercise, and liposuction. Using all of these techniques in unison can be a real fat buster.
First, I'll talk about dieting. This is where I avoid putting anything into my body that could cause unhealthy weight gain, like food. Once I've successfully weened myself from food dependency, I'll notice how much easier it is to shed pounds. If I keep it up I'll be admitted into a hospital in no time. This is societies way of saying, "OK, you're getting a little too good at this." I'll take that as a compliment.
Once I have my weight at a respectable 73 lbs, it's time to incorporate some exercise. Before getting a gym membership, however, I need to start eating again. Without any of the energy that food provides, it becomes extremely difficult to do strenuous activities like running, weightlifting, and walking. If I can't walk, chances are I won't be able to run either.
I can't just eat anything I want, though. I have to play it smart by eating only the smallest group at the top of the food pyramid. This will ensure I don't overeat. And once my diet consists of nothing but cookies, ice cream, and chocolate covered meat balls, I'll feel a tremendous amount of energy coursing through my body.
After I'm a big, blubbery ball of energy, I can hit the gym hard. As I walk through the doors of the fitness center at a wholesome 409 lbs, I'll feel all eyes on me. By the way all of the in shape members stare at my heavy breathing, already perspiring brow, and butter-stained sweatpants, I'll know what they're thinking, "This guy has so much more potential to lose weight than I do, the show off." Now I have the upper hand.
While working out I need to keep the 'No pain, no gain' motto in my head. Getting in shape is all about forcing the body to do what it doesn't want to do. And since I've just been shot off the back of a treadmill and into the wall, I can rest assured it didn't want to do that.
All I have to do is keep up the hard work and I'll be back to fighting shape in no time. And when that day comes, I'll be able to do all of the things I used to enjoy, like biking, going to the movies, and standing up. Variety truly is the spice of life.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
War
Being forced to go to war is probably enough to ruin anyone's weekend. The drill sergeant is always yelling, people are trying to kill you, and you aren't allowed to bring the wife and kids along. It is for these reasons that I usually try to call in sick whenever there's a draft going around.
Since they don't consider having a cold a 'good' reason to skip war, however, there's nothing I can do but suck it up and try to become the best soldier I can be. This isn't easy, especially when your worst fears are getting killed, killing others, and doing push ups, but it's a small price to pay for honor.
Before trudging out onto the battle field, I first have to choose a weapon. And even though we have all of these high-tech gadgets to pick from, like machine guns and sniper rifles, it's important to keep one thing in mind, a sword never runs out of ammo. The same can be said for fists.
Once I'm fully equipped with my anti-ammo weaponry, combat fatigues, and a backpack full of juice boxes, I march into the war zone looking for some action. I hear bullets whizzing over my head and the sound of explosions echoing off of the mountain sides, but that's not really what I'm interested in. Instead, I'm more interested in how I'm already handcuffed in the back of an enemy vehicle on it's way to their prison camp. It's like they had no fear of a sword that never needs reloading, or a fist that never jams. I hadn't planned on that kind of bravery.
While at the enemy base, they grill me with all sorts of questions like, "Where are your people planning to strike next?! Who is in charge of your unit?!! Do you mind if I take a juice box?!!!" But I just look them dead in the eye and say, "You can threaten me all you'd like, but I'll never tell you anything unless I get a warm hot dog first." Having strong negotiation skills can be the difference between life and death in this kind of situation.
At the conclusion of the war our drill sergeant usually starts yelling stuff at me like, "Why did you replace all of your standard issue equipment?! Why would you take a sword into battle?!! You gave up our position for a hot dog?!!!" I guess I can understand why he's so upset, but it's nothing a juice box can't fix.
Since they don't consider having a cold a 'good' reason to skip war, however, there's nothing I can do but suck it up and try to become the best soldier I can be. This isn't easy, especially when your worst fears are getting killed, killing others, and doing push ups, but it's a small price to pay for honor.
Before trudging out onto the battle field, I first have to choose a weapon. And even though we have all of these high-tech gadgets to pick from, like machine guns and sniper rifles, it's important to keep one thing in mind, a sword never runs out of ammo. The same can be said for fists.
Once I'm fully equipped with my anti-ammo weaponry, combat fatigues, and a backpack full of juice boxes, I march into the war zone looking for some action. I hear bullets whizzing over my head and the sound of explosions echoing off of the mountain sides, but that's not really what I'm interested in. Instead, I'm more interested in how I'm already handcuffed in the back of an enemy vehicle on it's way to their prison camp. It's like they had no fear of a sword that never needs reloading, or a fist that never jams. I hadn't planned on that kind of bravery.
While at the enemy base, they grill me with all sorts of questions like, "Where are your people planning to strike next?! Who is in charge of your unit?!! Do you mind if I take a juice box?!!!" But I just look them dead in the eye and say, "You can threaten me all you'd like, but I'll never tell you anything unless I get a warm hot dog first." Having strong negotiation skills can be the difference between life and death in this kind of situation.
At the conclusion of the war our drill sergeant usually starts yelling stuff at me like, "Why did you replace all of your standard issue equipment?! Why would you take a sword into battle?!! You gave up our position for a hot dog?!!!" I guess I can understand why he's so upset, but it's nothing a juice box can't fix.
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