Thanksgiving Day
Thanksgiving is upon us once again, and this year has me really really appreciating and being thankful for what I have. Most importantly in this recession period, what I have to possibly lose.
Earlier this year when my household income fell by half, I was concerned…but not worried. I knew that the one thing my wife and I share unequivocally is resilience and tenacity (ok that’s two things but whose counting) to weather this financial storm. I’m so glad we are of like minds. So when we cut out the VIP’ing, the designer handbags, my wife’s two hundred dollar jean addiction(lol), my taste for the finer wines and spirits, it was a pretty easy transition back to the mundane.
Others weren’t so lucky.
This Thanksgiving has us on the road to see family. It’s a much needed reprieve from the monotony that is Jacksonville. I’m excited. I don’t know of any family that has swagger and can maintain it for decades like ours. The bond is surreal. We owe it all to our grandmother.(rest in peace, Gertrude).
Man, I’m already hungry…I’m going to be a glut this Thanksgiving and look good doing it. If you’re in the area, fix me a plate. I’m coming to dinner. I like chicken, turkey, ham, ribs, and fish. You can keep the stuffing, I’m low carb…
Family benediction and eating aside, i’ll hit my old stomping grounds and see old friends from school and the neighborhood. Let’s be honest, this is where the show begins…the degrees, the titles, the cars, the trophy wife/husband. Because secretly you want to gauge/rank one another. Been that way since school hasn’t it?
After it’s all said and done, after all the feeding and posturing, after the show, after the pomp and circumstance…our friends and family are all we have to maintain our sanity in this tumultous, topsy turvy, trainwreck of an economy.
And for that, I am thankful most.
Training Day
It’s week two. And I’m in the hurt locker.
You know, that special place of pain where no muscle, tendon, or ligament escapes the soreness and lactic acid build-up from weightlifting and exercise. Serves me right for “taking some time off”. Apparently, exercise is meant to be a regular ongoing thing in life. Don’t believe me? Pretend for a sec that we had no luxuries. I mean medieval times. You had to hunt your own food. Find your own water. Build your own shelter and protect it. Yeah… it wouldn’t do good to be soft now would it? Technology has made us all weaker. But I simply refuse to subscribe to “bitchassness”. (Sorry, no other word more accurately describes it).
Maybe the military had a little bit to do with my exercise mindset, but I really think it’s my competitive spirit the drives me. Lord knows, my cousin and I (sup Fred!) have been trying to “one up” each other since kindergarten. From beanpoles in our twenties, to athletes in our thirties, to serious contenders for bodybuilding competitions in our forties. We’ll be in our seventies still trying to out bench each other.
(tangent alert), is it me, or are people quick to point out the fact that you work out? Actual conversations:
random guy: “dude, do you work out?”
Me: “nooo, I’m a librarian. these muscles come from lifting books all day”.
random guy: “man, that chick is hot! She’s like a six foot Amazon!”
me: yeah, but I think she like guys that can actually sweep her off her feet and NOT get a hernia.
Okay, I’m wrong for that, but here’s the thing: fit people are only semi attracted to non-fit people. food and sex will only go so far (who am I kidding, food and sex will go a long way). It really helps to be compatible physically though.
When you hear a person saying the reason they work out and exercise is to feel better about themselves, they are only telling you half of the truth. The other half? It’s a secret.
I’ll tell you the other half when you meet me in the gym. Tomorrow is triceps, biceps, shoulders and abdominals from hell day.
Mmm, fun.
Carnivores VS Herbivores
I like meat. Correction: I love meat. To me, meat comes second only to…well, you know. Sex.
I’ve wanted to talk about this subject for some time now, so to all my vegetarian buddies who think meat is so bad for you…please listen up.
The truth? It’s the carcinogens (aka the free radicals) from the preparing of meat that is a danger. You know…the frying, the grilling, the smoking. (personal digestive issues excused).
Now I’m certainly not advocating eating raw meat by any means ( my grilled Thai chicken will make you slap someone). But, ever hear of a lion, tiger or a wolf with heart disease or diabetes? Didn’t think so.
If you’ve sworn off meat for medical or biological reasons, such as the inability to effectively break down meat and pass it….different ballgame and no slight to you. But Vegans who swear off meat just because “it’s gross” or you think all cute furry animals shouldn’t be eaten, rest assured there is no plate for you at my BBQ.
Vegans are also soft. Mmhmm, that’s right. Soft. Step up and prove me wrong and I’ll show you a vegan whose been lying to his friends and deepthroating hardees thickburgers or mega dosing a ton of protein supplements.
Simply put, not getting enough protein will cause the body to break down muscle to compensate for the lack of protein in your diet. This is known as a catabolic state. Bodybuilders hate it. Vegans revel in it. Hence the “softness”.
The RDA(recommended daily allowance) for protein is 50 grams. Really? Seriously? I average 1.5-2 grams times my lean body weight divided by six meals. You Tom Cruise’s and Christian Bale’s of the world (you know, little tv action figures) need only 1 gram per pound of body weight..
The FDA and their cookie cutter RDA’s are solely responsible for the 80% obesity rate in this country. Who needs that many carbs on a daily basis anyways? Oh yeah, wanna know why sodium and cholesterol aren’t on any RDA food chart? Because then food companies would have to clean up their act and stop serving you garbage. They pay their lobbyist waaay too much money to grease the wheels of the FDA for that.
The RDA is a joke. “Know thy self”, don’t rely on someone telling you how to eat. Discipline yourself. No one’s going to do it for you.
“You are what you eat” has never been a truer statement. Did I really say Vegans were soft?
Why yes I did…
Volume Control
You know that friend of yours that talks REALLY loud?
So loud in fact, that you have to remove the phone from your ear, or back pedal away from them to avoid the spittle? It’s not their fault. It is however, their coping mechanism. The majority of them are extroverts. Outgoing, bright, optimistic, sunny people who want to brighten your day(and move the spotlight from all the skeletons in their closets).
Go ahead, just try to get a word in edgewise on these boisterous bubbly braggadocios blow hards (say that 4 times fast) and watch how their volume increases incrementally to over talk you. A normal conversation is now a shouting match. Your friend will then pull out a megaphone to finish his/her statement FTW (for the win).
As soon as I recognize the signs (the ability to hold 3 conversations at once and lead them all), I prepare myself for bouts of silence.
That’s right, the nemesis to these amplified vocal beings…the anti-talker. If I’m interrupted more than twice in a conversation, I shut up. Obviously that individual isn’t interested in a meaningful conversation and one of my major pet peeves is having to repeat myself. Being forced to repeat myself makes me want to cripple people. (update: I’m no longer crippling people, the treatments work!) Once you stop talking, they realize their mistake however briefly. But like a broken radio knob, they return to full volume in no time at all.
There are SOME advantages to having a loud talker around.
Planning an event? Just remember it’s good to have at least two or more loud talkers at a party or function. Ensure there is an even number of them and your party will be a success as they cancel each other out simultaneously livening up the scene.
This can sometimes backfire however, creating another insidious loud talker: the alcohol induced loud talker.
Oh yeah… now you have to contend with breath, spittle and at times become a leaning post. Because drunks wobble. There is nothing you can do but shred the napkin (aka the coaster) that your drink is sitting on and stuff it in your ears to protect your ear drums. A face shield would be nice, but it’s not too aesthetic in social settings.
Remedy: Introduce him or her to the person next to you and excuse yourself to the bathroom. Works like a charm, trust me. Let them slobber and shout all over that person.
The Chameleon and the Hater
Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.
Yeah…i’m sure that applies to the 99.9 percentile, but let’s talk about the “haters” for a moment, shall we? 1st, let’s define the modern term “hater”. We all heard it in some form or fashion, in a literal or theatrical sense. But let’s break it down for the less urban demographic:
Hater
Noun;
1. One who hates.
2. (slang, pejorative) One who expresses unfounded or inappropriate hatred or dislike, particularly if motivated by jealousy.
Great. we all can define what or who a hater is. But what the hell do haters and chameleons have in common? I’m getting to that but first let’s define what a chameleon is.
Chameleon
Noun;
1. A small to mid-size reptile, of the family Chamaeleonidae, and one of the best known lizard families able to change color and project its long tongue.
2. A person with inconstant behavior; one able to quickly adjust to new circumstances.
Now….When you have an individual that can’t stand the ground you walk on, and will erase every footprint you leave behind, all the while secretly admiring your swagger, taking notes on your designer fashion, the books you read, eyeballing your tech,wearing your cologne, mimicking your kung fu (well, feebly at best): Hater/Chameleon hybrid
I find it amusing these days. Something that used to send me into beast mode, simply makes me smile and shake my head. Even more so; I’ve come to take pity on them. Maybe it was a bad childhood. No friends, no girls, you know…”the straight home from school get your ass in the room” kinda childhood. No interaction with peers…no wait. No EQUALITY amongst peers, will drive you to do weird things. The hater/chameleon hybrid has to imitate everything it sees in order to give the perception of being able to relate. Yet, to see the Alpha (ha ha) do things it will never attain: the winning touchdown,getting the really fine girl, and getting the respect of all the guys is enough to set the hater’s blood boiling, sending it into an ADHD (Attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder) rage.
Here’s what’s funny though. the hybrid believes that it’s invisible. It thinks that we can’t actually see it wearing our style, our gear, studying our moves. It doesn’t know that we can see it spreading hate and discontent behind our backs. It doesn’t realize we can hear all the things it’s saying to place itself in a positive light meanwhile working to place us in a negative one.
I was once told that success was measured by the amount of haters you had. Really? Because it gets old after awhile and you just want to recommend therapy to the hater. Waitaminute, hater rehab….that’s not a bad idea.
Bizzaro World
WTF?!? Something is in the water. There HAS to be. It’s a good thing my house has a sturdy filtration system.
disclaimer: if you are a Jacksonville Florida native , you might be offended, for that I apologize in advance……nah, I’m kidding. I ain’t sorry. There’s something REALLY wrong with y’all.
I needed to renew my car tags yesterday and I made the mistake of going to the DMV on a Friday. What the hell was I thinking, right? The Department of Motor Vehicles is always crowded. There really is never a good time to go. But what I saw actually gave me a “maybe I should consider leaving Jacksonville, Florida ” moment.
Ok, to help get you into my state of mind: I’m a huge sci-fi guy. a gamer. a huge book reader. a techie. and a big gym rat. (essentially a geek trapped in a jock’s body). I have a semi photographic memory which allows me to store a mental image and pull it up months or years later to compare it to another image with deadly accuracy. That’s a snapshot of me…
I pull into the DMV parking lot. It’s packed as usual, no biggie. It’s when I walked in the door that I realized I was in a whole new dimension. My personal. living. breathing. twilight zone. I’ve been back in Jacksonville for 13 years (excluding my military time) and I have not seen people like this. All nationalities, all races, all religious backgrounds…….all mutants.
I mean, damn. The term “dregs of society” just doesn’t cut it. Was I on the “extras” set for District 9? I’m thinking to myself, any minute now the camera crew is going to pop out with Ashton Kutcher’s goofy ass all up in my face. But no, just a lady eyeballing me with this huge knot on her arm like something was under there. Popcorn. If you could get popcorn underneath your skin. She had to have been a mind reader, because I was thinking, “please get the f*ck away from me”, and she left immediately.
I hadn’t even taken a number yet and a lady nursing 7 kids like a golden retriever starts yelling she’d been skipped. Ok, maybe it wasn’t 7, but there were a lot of them. There’s 5 in a litter right?
At this point, I’m trying to regulate my breathing, and focus on getting my tags renewed. My mind is still racing….I don’t even see people like this in Wal-Mart at midnight. (By the way, I recommend going to Wal-Mart during the witching hour for entertainment if ever you’re bored.) At this point, I’m feeling like the butcher just set out fresh ground beef and there was a sale. Maybe it was me, but I’m almost sure I heard someone whisper, “brains”.
Jacksonville, Florida is not the Florida you see on tv. We do have the weather and the palm trees, but that is as far as it goes. The beautiful people with no jobs migrate further south. Jax is a working man’s town. But before the economic down turn, if you had some sense, jobs were good. I have to mention that Jax sits extremely close to the Georgia border. A lot of people call Jacksonville “lower georgia” for that reason. Maybe that explains the freakshows and the “hills have eyes” people I saw in the DMV.
95% of my friends and their friends all moved here… lots of corporate, industrial and military types. We all hear the same saying all the time. “Y’all aint from round hea, is you”?
Mmm hmm, the mutants need fresh DNA strands. The inbreeding can only go so far until the deformities are obvious. And then they go hang out at the DMV.
Orlando is looking better everyday.
NFL Sunday Ticket
Buyer beware!
There is trickery afoot…..not to mention some bullsh*t. “Get all 13 games in high definition”. (oh did we forget to mention that the HD channels were extra?) Our bad. Aww, is your game blacked out locally? What a coincidence, its seems ours is too.
Directv is getting worse every year with it’s NFL packages. It’s nothing short of disgusting. But here’s the real kicker, something the fine print failed to mention: the big three: ABC, NBC, CBS are redoing their contracts with the NFL. Last year, if your team aired on CBS, it was not going to be shown on the vainglorious 1080p HD of Sunday ticket. No…CBS aired it in standard version, 720 at best (cheap bastards).
Before you go, “Dennis stop making stuff up”, I got this juicy bit of intel after being on hold for an hour and a half from a Directv rep. Seriously. You know what, I’m gonna place a call to the feds or the DEA, because someone over at the NFL is smoking some of the finest crack money can buy. Watch a Thursday night game and see if they don’t call it Monday night football…Only crackheads and Alzheimer patients don’t know what day it is.
Which way would you have it: they’re smoking crack OR they say we’re so incredibly stupid we won’t notice. Another sign that they believe we’re as smart as a box of rocks: The giant HD screen in Dallas stadium. I guess even the fools are bigger and better in Texas, because if I have to leave my house, drive to the stadium and pay to watch the game on another tv (albeit a larger one), I deserved to be fleeced of all my money.
The NFL should just rob us at gunpoint. Oh wait, I forgot. It’s hard to find good help that isn’t 2009′s version of Barney Fife.(yes I’m talking about you, Plaxico Burress).
As for NFL Sunday ticket…it’s over, done. Like Minnesota’s season with Brett Favre. (what the hell were they thinking, he’s my age and I’m in better shape).
Edit: okay, I’m older than Brett Favre but in waaay better shape and a lot more handsome by a longshot.
iPhone Crack
I admit it.
I cannot function (well) without my iPhone. Uh huh, that’s right…3 days max is probably all I’d go without it tethered to me in some form or fashion. The sad thing is that I’m not alone. Millions of you are in the same boat I’m in.
My iPhone I’m sure, functions for at least 4-5 devices currently in your house. My list of iPhone apps will amaze some of you non-tech people.
I won’t go into how many movies and tv shows I have, but there’s easily 45-50 gigs to cycle through.(for you old timey people that’s roughly 80-100 trips to Blockbuster).
I have so much music that I’m frequently asked to DJ parties I attend.(especially if the current DJ is garbage).
I can rent a movie download it and watch it on your tv, buy tickets, make reservations on the fly…now that I’m thinking on it, start my car too.
In a nutshell, I’m never bored. If I happen to pull out my iPhone longer than 30 seconds during a conversation with you, it means YOU ARE BORING.
I guess connected and in control is what I feel. It’s the exact same with “crackberries”(BlackBerries) except way cooler. Yes, other phones are starting to catch up to the iPhone with their little bells and whistles, kudos to them.
The Blackberry Storm: I wish I had 2 extra hands so I could give it four thumbs down. There are a couple of decent BlackBerrys, this ain’t one of them.
The G2: mmm, it’s ok, bulky though. Who wants a Hardees thickburger in their pocket? Not me.
I can’t stress it enough, quality over quantity. I’ve accidentally kicked my phone across a gas station parking lot. Got a few scratches but that was it.
You got iPhone beef? Let’s hear it. C’mon Cleatus, c’mon…
You Run Like A Girl
All I wanted to do was to drive to Burger King, grab me some Burger Shots with cheese to soak up some of tequila from the night before. Don’t judge me, we’ve all been there.
I’m sitting at a stop light thinking,” man I need to wash the “Z” when I see him… The Jogger. If I had to gauge by his bouncy gait, I’d say he was happy. But the look on his face said otherwise. His face read, “somebody just punched me in the stomach and I have to drop a deuce”. I felt sorry for him but all I could think about was my burgers.
After the drive thru from hell (maybe franchises can have cashier training once in a freaking while!?) I saw the jogger again. I’m thinking who the hell runs like that?
Girls do, that’s who. It’s because they have to counter for the extras they have. Or so I’d like to believe, but what is this guy’s excuse? We all come in different sizes and shapes which kinda dictates how we move, I get that…but a grown ass man running like Patrick Swayze and Wesley Snipes in “To Wong Foo” is a bit much.
My running stride has always been forward and low for speed. It wasn’t until Michael Johnson in the Olympics ran like he was sitting in a chair did speedsters change up their styles losing all cool points at once. Now I’m back to thinking, maybe this guy has some kinda disorder, maybe a shortened leg that’s causing his irregular hop. Then I saw the reason for his flamboyancy: his pink headband.
I laughed to myself as I bit down on a mini burger and popped the clutch, just to bark the tires as the light turned green. Ok Ok, maybe I was making fun at his “preferences”….I ain’t hating…just laughing.
Labor Day
I just submitted my vacation time off at work. I friggin needed it too…
SOMEBODY was about to be the recipient of 6 months of pent up aggravation, and recession-laden aggression.
I figured I’d get the most bang for my bucks by selecting the week before labor day. That way with weekends included I’d get 2 weeks for the price of 1.
Kinda got me to thinking, why exactly do we celebrate labor as a holiday? Hell, might as well celebrate a root canal or worse, a prostate exam. Celebrating back breaking work(well, for some of us) has got to be the dumbest thing ever. Rejoice! I have a job cleaning toilets. Yay! My boss has nose hairs that looks like someone rammed a miniature straw broom up there.
In 1882, labor unions thought it was a good idea to give their people time off for union speeches and meetings under the guise of festive activities and parades. I knew there had to be an ulterior motive!
Granted, I know what most of you are thinking…well, Dennis in these economic times and hardships, people should be extra grateful for working.
True. Very true. I’m also very grateful for the ability to have a bowel movement regularly as well. It supposed to happen. No fireworks in my bathroom though. Unless I’ve had Chele’s creole seasonings.
Let’s get to the REAL reason we celebrate Labor Day…no, the end of summer doesn’t count. Football. NCAA and NFL. Hellz yeah…
Are you ready for some football?
Common sense is not common
I wish I had a dollar for all the stupid things I see people do on a daily basis. Apparently I’m an alien residing on the planet O.C.D. I’m not sure what drives the decision making process in some people but damn…just breathe, slow down, fire off a couple of gray matter neurons and assess a situation before making a total imbecile of yourself.
Pet peeve #1. your car isn’t faster than mine. Stop trying to cut me off, speed up and/or block me from passing. Trying to “out accelerate” my Nissan 350z in a truck, SUV, sedan or anything else that doesn’t have over 400 horses under the hood is going to get you embarrassed.
Pet peeve #2. Women who wear makeup to the gym. Seriously. WTF is that all about? In 12 years of working out I’ve never seen anything more asinine. 5 to 7pm in the gym is like happy hour minus the booze so apparently she’s one of those DW’s. (see my last post)
Pet peeve #3. Guys who believe their own lies so much, they create their own reality. For the record, when you’re recruiting for your “multi million dollar” real estate business, it’s probably not a good look to wear Pro Keds, Walmart faded glory jeans and drive a 1987 Ford bronco that OJ wouldn’t drive. Nevermind that your flea market brand Ed Hardy actually reads “Ned Hardy”.
I know that we are driven to do strange things and act out in strange ways by our environment, hormones and senseless peer pressure ploys designed to make you act like you haven’t received home training…but I guess as long as no one gets hurt, providing us a laugh at your dumb ass shenanigans is ok. It’s all fun and games til someone gets the “brakes beat off them”.
What’s that smell?
I’m really trying hard to be as unbiased as I possibly can when I say this: Ladies…desperation is not a good look. I should probably elaborate a bit more, “being desperate in getting a man” is not a good look. Yeah, I know there are guys who are just as desperate, but I’m not one of them and I’ll be damned if I hang around those losers, so I ain’t writing about them…yet.
I can smell it you know (no, not the Dolce & Gabanna or that Avon knockoff), the desperation. Seeping outta their pores like next day tequila. That 4th quarter hurry up offense to score…A woman’s game clock, it’s a shame there’s no overtime…. Ovaries, apparently are like time bombs. You gotta use em before they explode. Huh, who knew?
Almost every time I’m out, I get that look. You know the look I’m referring to: that extra linger-look away-then look again-smile look. It’s THAT look men love to get. It brings back that untainted school boy in all of us. That “yeah, I’m the sh*t” feeling.
It’s the wild eyed, “I haven’t had any sleep because I can hear my fallopian tubes cracking” that scares the bejesus out of men.
I had a T-Pain experience at Chili’s the other day. Hanging with the guys, killing the 2 for 1 all night drinks specials when the bartender says “a lady is buying you a drink”. Cool, I turn down nothing but my collar…
It happened in slow motion (at least for me it was). I saw the approach, I saw the smile, I saw the switch in her hips that screamed “I’M FERTILE”. Then I saw the look of disgust when she caught the light’s reflection from my platinum diamond wedding band. It was like someone had messed up her $85 dollar perm. She wasn’t even cordial when I offered to return the favor. Maybe it was the walk of shame back to her table or the giggling schoolboys that my friends turned into.
Most of all, I’m sure it was the disappointment. I felt bad for her in a sense. She looked weathered/tired in the dating game. You know how desert travelers see mirages and get that burst of excitement and energy only to find out it’s nothing there? Yeah, like that.
What can you do? As long as we have the genetically encoded primal need to procreate there will always be trials in finding a mate. That goes for both men and women, but its just funnier to me when women have to do “the walk of shame”. Divine retribution? maybe.
