Why take less?

So in a world of bigger and better, why would we opt for something less?  My screaming example of this came while I was at the grocery store the other day and looking at the cookies.  So many delicious choices, but something jumped out at me that just seemed stoopid.  It was the Oreos.  A fabulous little delectable that has stood the test of time and remains an American favorite.  As I looked at my many options, I realized the obvious.  There was the regular, old fashioned Oreo….  And then there was the Double Stuff Oreo.  Now can you tell me who in their right mind would settle for the standard filling when you can take on the double stuff?  Come on, man!  I’m a consistent consumer of the Oreo and ALWAYS go with the double stuff.  Why wouldn’t you?  When you successfully twist off the top cookie half and get to that splendid white center….  It’s like hitting the jackpot.  I can’t imagine going through that process and then only getting a single stuff reward! 

This happens all the time.  There are products on the grocery shelf that say “New and improved flavor!”.  Yeah baby – that is what I’m talking about!  Then, a quick peek to the left of the “New and improved flavor” and I see the original flavor.  Who would look at those options and say to themselves…  “nah, I don’t want more flavor, I think I will just stick with the usual bland option”.  And why do companies continue to produce things that aren’t as good as their new versions?  It’s like buying a car where the original comes with two tires and the new and improved model has four tires.  I can’t get my mind around it.

So, when you are at the store the next time, take a minute to chuckle at the options you have for the original version of something and the NEW, FANTASTIC and WONDERFUL option of the same product.  If you start to grab for the lesser product – slap yourself!!  Don’t take less, opt for the better option.  And always, I mean ALWAYS go with the Double Stuff Oreo or you will be mocked!

Chaperone or Chauffer?

So the time had come for my oldest son to attend his first school dance.  An exciting time, no doubt!!  My wife had received an email from the school asking for additional volunteers to chaperone the event and ensure these energetic young adults minded their p’s and q’s.  Prior to offering up our names, we asked our son if it would be okay.  My wife told him we were thinking of chaperoning the dance and asked if he would be cool with that.  His response, “yeah, that’s cool with me”.  So, we signed up to donate a few hours of our time to stand by and observe the maniacs in motion.

As the day of the dance arrived, my wife said “We need to get going since we need to check in at 5:45”.  My son – slammed with a look of confusion all over his face said “well who are we giving a ride?”.  Humm, interesting question as we weren’t giving anyone a ride.  So in follow up to his question, my wife told him that it was just us.  The confused look now turned to utter bewilderment.  He said, “I thought you guys were chaperoning and so don’t you have to give some of the kids rides to the dance?”.  It was then that we realized the young stud had obviously confused the definitions for “Chaperone” and “Chauffer”.  LOL!!  Hilarious.  So, we told him that we were going to the dance with him and would be watching over the bundle of Bieber-ites.  “oooohhhhhhhh….” was his response.

So we arrive at the school to find a room nicely decorated with balloons all over the ceiling and floors.   I told my wife it would be a matter of time before the bal *POP!*, balloons on the floor were all popped.  Sure enough, the energetic and nervous young men stomped on the balloons until there were none.  The DJ was good and seemed to play the jams the youth of America enjoy.  At first, there were just bundles of kids talking in circles.  Some were dressed as if it were prom.  Others picked a theme to run with, there was a hotdog costume, ties and hats, you name it.  It was apparent there were cool kids, the 8^th graders and then the rest. 

As things picked up and Jamba Juice was consumed… the nerves settled and there was some dancing going on.  No slow jams like we had at our dances, but all loud and active music.  My wife and I were comfortable and no longer feared the event, thinking this was a cake walk.  Then, blaring on the speakers started the LMFAO song that apparently sparked the feet and vocal chords of the youth.  They started all singing and jumping around.  Game on.  This was no longer a lame dance and had turned into a full on party!!  There was screeching, running, singing and dancing.  Wow, these little tykes don’t mess around.  Then, it was Bieber time and in unison, “baby, baby, baby…” was hollered at the highest of levels.  My wife and I made eye contact from our posts and there was a slight concern for our safety.  These little people were taking over!

The clock struck 8:00 and the lights came on and the DJ told them the fun had to end.  There was shrapnel all over the floor.  Neon glow sticks, jamba juice cups, blasted balloon parts and some spills of soda and sweat.  All in all, I have to say that these kids did it right.  I can’t remember a dance like that when I was a kid and only recall the mass separation of boys and girls and the awkward twinkles of the DJ lights.  This was a party.  The kids behaved and had a blast.  My son wasn’t embarrassed as I kept to myself and fought all urges to break out the running man.  It was a good night and kinda provided my wife and I with the proof that not all little people are scary.

Oh, and my son now understands the difference between Chaperone and Chauffer.  

Thanksgiving done right!

There’s something about the Thanksgiving holiday that just puts me at ease.  The rest, relaxation and family seem to be just what the doctor ordered. 

Every year my family makes the trip down to New Mexico for a handful of days shared with my family.  My grandparents have a farm a few miles outside of a small town, that offers a million things one wouldn’t find in their normal lives.  The Farm is a magical place that has been the anchor of our family for as long as I’ve been alive.  Family members from all over the country arrive every Thanksgiving to take in the small town feel, quiet surroundings and amazing Mexican food! 

As you pull into the drive of the Farm, you pass the pond that is surrounded with huge trees that have poured their leaves onto the front yard and nicely raked into huge piles for the kids to jump into.  As you enter the house, the sound of the old wood floors under your feet greet you with a welcoming squeak and creak.  Hugs start flowing and the chatter begins on what has been happening with everyone for the past year.  The kids (the number seems to grow every year) quickly reunite with their cousins and start trekking around the Farm in search of things they won’t see at their homes.  Plenty of open space, tree house, pond, ducks, and great outdoors!  Grandpa’s truck looks like it could be the brother of “Mater” from the movie ‘Cars’ sits in the drive with the keys in it and an open invitation for the kids to practice their driving along the back roads of the Farm.  Yes, there is adult supervision, but where else can an 11 year old boy get behind the wheel and take a ride? 

Thanksgiving day arrives as the family goes for a world record in cramming as many people as possible into the tiny country kitchen.  There is ham being carved, turkey tasting at your own risk and heavy whipping cream being poured into everything we can.  Desserts are being prepped and appetites are growing!  We all sit down for our meal, occupying three of four tables that we hook together to support a comfy, yet manageable dining experience.  You can hear the kids laughing, adults chattering and occasionally just the quiet of the day.  It takes little time for plates to be cleaned and the kids to escape back to the majesty of the Farm and the adults heading to the living room for some football and nap time.  Let’s face it, we are no match for the powers of the tryptophan and 3 slices of pie.  Couches and recliners are jammed with people looking for a place to get some shut eye.  Soon, snores fill the room and heads are bobbing as the football game fades to a distant sound.  Ahh, gotta love that.

Before the time comes for everyone to head back to the reality of their lives, we spend more time as a family with a dinner out at the best Mexican food restaurant you will ever find.  Following that, a game of bowling at the local bowling alley and a chance for greatness to be on display.  We usually occupy 4 lanes and about 15 or 16 “bowlers” and it’s a great outing for the group as the kids bank balls off the bumpers and the adults battle one another for bragging rights. 

Now tell me, is that a Thanksgiving or what?  Hopefully you get to have the same experiences and memories as my family is blessed enough to have during this magical time.  It’s just about the time that we shed those extra pounds we so rightfully gained over the holiday that we start to yearn for the next time.  Thanksgiving is a great thing when done right, I’m happy to be a part of a family and tradition that offers up the perfect holiday!

No NBA? No Problem!!

So the latest drama in the world of professional sports surrounds the inability for owners and players to decide how to share many, many millions of dollars.  Hummm.....  I have a few thoughts on that.  Still, we the fans are faced with the very good chance of missing an entire NBA season.

How do I feel about that?  Well, I think the absence of prima donnas  walking up and down the hardwood in search of their next 1-1 matchup... won't cause me to lose any sleep.  So we won't see the high-flying slam dunks or the flops in search of a foul.  We won't get to see grown men behave like babies when they are whistled for a foul and somehow feel the need to argue and throw their hands in the air in disbelief.

What happened to the days of David Robinson, Charles Barkley, Michael Jordan, Magic Johnson, Hakeem Olajuwon  and Dominique Wilkins?  This was an era of true NBA hoops.  There was respect, athleticism, competitiveness and passion.  Sure they scared many of us with the short shorts and high fade hair cuts.  Still, they played the game it was intended to be played.  They hustled, dove on the floor, shared the basketball and played team defense.  There wasn't any flopping or crying to officials.  There wasn't multi-million dollar punks with Slick Rick agents up in the suite.  It was a time for the game to be the game.

So, if we are faced with winter without Kobe, Lebron and attitude..... I think we will survive.  Don't fret as there is an entirely different option for us hoop fans.  It's called the NCAA!!  It will remind you of why you love the game and why you really don't like the NBA.  A bunch of kids leaning on the memory of the movie "Hoosiers" and dreaming of the next level.  Still pure, honest and with ethics, these kids play the game hard and with pride.  They are representing their schools, friends and families.  They don't have agents driving cars that auto-park themselves.  They don't have endorsements and contracts that taint them and push them to believe they can't get wet in the shower.  They are people just like you and me.  They are basketball players.  So enjoy a basketball season in the college world and start printing out as many March Madness brackets as you can.

Yes, you can still wear the Carmelo Anthony jersey you spent way too much for.

Really? Driving gloves???

Okay, when I think about driving gloves, I think about some high rollin’ cat in Italy racing around in his Ferrari!  I think about mountain roads filled with incredible scenery and an occasional hair-pin turn that needs managed.  You know, like what you see in a commercial or Hollywood flick. 

This morning, I caught a glimpse of the driving gloves right here in my own backyard.  It’s 7:15 in the morning and I’ve started the joyous trek that is my normal commute.  I’m sippin’ on some coffee and listening to anything that isn’t Beyonce.  Just minding my own business.  Then, out of nowhere, pulls up this blue Porche 911.  It was sweet.  As I glanced over to take in the machine, I caught a glimpse of the driver… a man in his early 40’s and dressed nicely with the wavy hair and unnecessary sunglasses.  I thought to myself, “now here’s a dude that has some place to go”.  As a started to return my eyes to the light in anticipation of GREEN, I saw them.  Right there and perched upon his steering wheel.  DRIVING GLOVES!!!

So, it isn’t cold enough to require gloves on the morning commute.  30 degrees is very tolerable and from my initial assessment, I’m guessing this guy has a garage where he keeps this blue beauty.  So, the gloves can’t be to support the frigid climate as I’m assuming he didn’t take a step out into the elements, but instead just plopped down in the plush leather of his drivers’ seat.  Could the gloves be for performance driving?  Maybe – but there isn’t much opportunity for performance driving in the hustle and bustle of the rat race on a Monday morning.  I don’t get it!!  Is it just a fashion statement that escapes my average Joe style?  Perhaps the driving accessories came with the ride and he signed some pact that states he will forever don the gloves while pushing the 400+hp?  I don’t know.  What I do know is that I saw a dude wearing driving gloves. 

I don’t care what you drive.  I don’t care how cool your hair is.  There is no place for driving gloves.  To prove my point, I think I will race out and get some Isotoners on sale and sport them on my drive home.  I will wear them as if I have some place to be and all others should question their own selves and have to answer the question why they aren’t cool enough.  I shall collect laugher, finger-pointing and hopefully a harassing honk to prove my point!

What a waste!

One of the best couple of weeks in the year…. The World Series!  For baseball fans around the country, it’s a time when the summer past time rolls into fall and the elite shine.  Whether your team is in it, or you’re simply adopting one of the final two teams competing for the pennant, it’s a wonderful time of the year. 

On Sunday night, there were 49,170 fans wearing Texas Rangers colors – and a few sporting the Cardinals gear – as game 4 got underway.  As I watched the game from my recliner in the family room, I think about what a wonderful event this is and what a true blessing it is for those fans who scored tickets to the game.  Again, it doesn’t matter if you’re a fan of the game or not, simply being in attendance for one of sports’ great occasions is amazing  and a true privilege.  Maybe even a once in a lifetime opportunity?

So can someone tell me why, why in the name of all that is good and holy in this world, would a chick sitting front row behind home plate feel the need to be on her phone for the entire game?  Come on man!  You have to be kidding me.  I get it, you might want to take a picture and then post it to your Facebook, LinkedIn or Twitter account so all of your “Friends” can see how cool you are and be reminded of their lifetime of failures.  Still, that effort should only take 3 minutes at the most.  This girl had her head buried in her keyboard for the majority of the game.  I would see the batter dig into the box, spit over his shoulder and peer back at the pitcher.  Then, I would glance behind the batter to see this knucklehead missing the entire thing.  One of the most frustrating feelings I’ve had in some time.

I wanted so badly to obtain her mobile number, call her from my chair and give her the business.  What a waste.  Not just of money paid for the tickets, but a waste of a seat that a true baseball fan would have killed for.  I realize we’re quickly becoming a country of tiny letters and sore thumbs, but you have to know when to put the damned phone down.  If you can’t understand this, perhaps you should avoid any public setting, or sporting event or anything that requires actual eye contact and social skills.  There is a place for peeps like this, and it ISN’T front row at the World Series!!! 

Please, let us come together and realize there is more to life than updating your status every 5 minutes with information that nobody really cares about.  Don’t allow yourself to be defined by 55 characters or less.  Be someone, be present and be an individual.  If you have tickets to game 5 of the series and can’t seem to find the strength to fight the mainstream addiction that pulls all your focus and energy from that tiny brain of yours…. Please mail me your tickets and I will go in your place… with my phone left at home.

Mystery Sunroof Attack!

Stunned.  Curious.  Mystified.

On Tuesday of this week, I entered my garage as I do every morning in preparation for making “The Man” look good.  I tote my laptop case and cup o Joe towards my car that is quietly resting in its place.  As I near the ride, I notice something on top of the car.  What in the #$(*&#$?????  As I squint to the seal that surrounds my sunroof, I notice it has been damaged.  Damaged in a way that is unexplainable!  There are some small pieces of the rubberized material sitting on the roof of the car and right next to the glass.  What in the ##$(*&$????? 

What could have caused this?  Was it a bird sitting atop the car that was pecking on the material?  Can’t be as the loose pieces would have flown off during my commute from here to there.  This happened while I was asleep and the car was parked in the garage.  Was it a mouse?  No… I mean, how could a mouse climb onto the top of my sweet ride?  Wouldn’t it slide off while trekking up the windshield or rear glass window?  Besides, there was no evidence of paw, claw, tail or otherwise present on the car.  Could the rodent be a fan of Tom Cruise movies and actually repelled from the roof as to not make their presence known?  Come on… that would take at least 3 mice to pull of such a stunt with all the cables and planning!

And what is so special about the rubber material that surrounds the sunroof?  My wife’s car that sits right next to mine is untouched!  Does my sunroof reek of an odor that is irresistible?  Again… what in the #$)(*)#$?????

So I chalked it up to some freak thing that nobody could ever explain.  I went through my day on Wednesday, repeating my usual routine filled with unnecessary meetings all day and football practice to end.  I parked in my spot as usual and called it a day.  As I started my Thursday in the same fashion as the day prior, I approach my car to find the same frickin’ thing has happened!!!  You gotta be kidding me!!  What in the #$#$()**?????  Again, I look all through the car, the trunk, the ceiling of the garage (inspecting for cables and tiny mouse gloves) and there is no sign of an attack beyond the little rubber pieces that are left on the roof.  Now it’s getting personal!

So before bed last night, I get out my materials in search of the sweetest revenge.  I have two of the sticky pads that encourage tiny assailants to hop on.  One on the floor and the other on top of my car next to the crime scene.  I then get the old fashioned wood-based trap that holds the tastiest of cheeses.  Yeah, it’s go time.  Go ahead and judge me for my tactics and call PETA (People Eating Tasty Animals).  I’m out for victory and closure.  Besides, the humane traps don’t work because they don’t mean business.  I set the scene and head off to bed with extreme anticipation for what I might find in the morning.

This morning, I grab my coffee and laptop bag and quickly make way to the garage.  Trap one with the cheap cheddar is empty.  Ugh.  Trap two is the sticky pad between the cars… empty.  Ugh.  Then, I glance to the top of my car and there is a raccoon asleep.  Just kidding.  That would scare the pee outta me!  The third trap was also empty.  The sunroof experienced no further violation during the night.  What in the #$#*($&#???? 

So, I’m thinking I will repeat my efforts from last night and hope I’m smarter than the criminal.  I want this thing done and I want to send a message.  I’m hoping that whatever is responsible for the damage is served sweet justice.  I want the message sent to any critter in my hood that things don’t play like that at my casa.  So, wish me luck as I battle the evil forces that seem to have it out for me and my transportation.  I shall be victorious (or be without an entire seal for my sunroof).  Stay tuned…..