The Modern Man VS. Walletzilla

Sometimes a man is faced with obstacles so huge, so large, so ominous, and so life threatening, that he must rise above the mediocre and face the challenge head on, regardless of fear and heedless of the very threat to his own life. As Rocky faced Apollo Creed, as King Kong faced Godzilla, Indiana Jones faced the Nazis, and as the Sisters faced the evil Traveling Pants, I must face my own demon. As I bravely stare it down, I wonder what horrible plans it has for me. Will it cause back pain? Will it rip out more pockets? Will it pull me under the cold, black, swirling water to a certain death if I fall in the next time I go fly fishing?

Oh wallet, why, why, why??? Why hast thou forsaken me?

Now I have a Solomon like task at hand. I must met out a tough and possibly contentious decision upon an object that I need to get through life with. But how does one met out justice upon a wallet that is growing more and more dangerous every day? It started off with a few pictures, some money, and a banking card. Now it is about the size of Rhode Island, only less comfortable to sit on.

Now let's not get fooled into thinking that this wallet is full of money. Quite honestly there isn't enough room in it for a few dollar bills, let alone a stack of fifties. My wallet used to be fairly thin, but not it's growing like the national deficit. The issue is my wallet is being taken over by an assortment of plastic cards foisted upon me from every angle that I feel I can't get rid of because if you don't carry them at all times, you never have them when you need them. First, my wallet just had my credit and banking card, then it was infiltrated by a King Soopers card, then a Safeway card. Let's look and see what else is in here. There is a Qdoba card (burritos the size of a brick), Ace Hardware Card (motto "We only charge twice as much as Home Depot!"), Rocky Mountain National Park Card, two insurance cards, a drivers licence (Motto: We make Sears Photography look good!), Big City Burrito punch card, Local Nursery Discount Card, three business cards that I can't remember ever taking, two library cards, Sam's Club card, my electronic card to get into work (Motto: Schools are always open, so why bother?), a fairly new flex plan credit card, and punch cards for coffee, burritos, and cheap pseudo-Mexican food.

Plus, of course, I have some pictures of family I can foist upon unsuspecting people, as well as the bonus picture of all time: My prom picture. Sure, that would save me 1 millimeter of space if I got rid of the evidence of the most ridiculous high school extravaganza since homecoming, but you'd be surprised how you can liven up boring conversations by plopping your prom picture from 1989 down in front of a group of people. It's entertainment in itself, plus, you'd love my mullet and black and white tuxedo with the beautiful purple cumber-bun.

I'm surprised nobody has a band named The Cumberbun yet.

My wallet has been responsible for destroying every pair of dockers I have ever owned. They get a lovely worn patch in the back pocket, and then get a hole right through the two layers of fabric. Seriously, my wallet wears my pants down faster than the Snake River is wearing down the Grand Canyon.

Since I've learned wallets are bad for the back, I've moved it into my front pocket, which quite honestly, isn't much better. When I'm sitting, my wallet looks like the largest, squarest hive in the world trying to find freedom by burrowing itself through my pants. I don't even know if I can fit my cell phone in the same pocket without being arrested for indecency here at work.

My wallet, is literally, a foot thick and probably weights as much as a small dog. It should probably be registered with as a deadly weapon as I think with the proper throw, I could hurt someone pretty badly. So, what do I get rid of? If I leave any of the cards out, I won't have them when I need them. If I get rid of the pictures, what kind of husband am I? And leaving the cards our for when I would need them is kind of like my cloth bags for the supermarket. I always leave in the back seat of my car and finally realize that when the cashier asks if I want paper or plastic.

But, why don't you just chuck it all?  Why put up with being tied down by discount cards from "the man".

Seriously?  I'm cheap!  Do you know how upset do I get when I don't get the 15 cents off on the candy bar when I don't have the proper card?

So I'm pleading for someone to invent the ONE CARD. A card you can transfer the magical powers of all my other discount cards into one, easily handled, and more easily lost card. Think of the health benefits, the safety factors, and the generally handiness of such card. In fact, I'm looking for investors right now for this venture.

Only you'll have to come to me, I don't think I can get up with this wallet in my pocket.

The Modern Man: Quick Hits

Cell phones and Star Trek:

We finally broke down and purchased a Bluetooth ear thingy (actual technical term) for our cell using a $15 class action lawsuit settlement against Verizon to save a little cash on it. I have to say, it is a handy little device, but I’m finding it excruciatingly difficult to not answer the phone, “Yes, Captain!” every time it rings. It’s really bringing out the hot black inner sci-fi chick in me. Err. I think I’ve said too much.

Class action lawsuits:

Seriously, a $15 coupon when the lawyers made millions EACH? If I wasn’t able to say things like “I’ll turn on the universal translator,” when the phone rings, I might have had to complain.

Swimming (again):

Why are fog-free goggles so important for the lap swimmer, such as I? I mean, what is there to see, really? Does it really matter if the black line is foggy?

Amazingly, it seems to be that it really does matter. I’m as thrilled as a middle school student at a dance with a power outage with my new $15 fog-free swimming goggles. Not only do I get to see the black line in HD (as well as the floating Band-Aids, phlegm strings, and lifeguards), but I can also finally see the comedy of 40-70 year olds doing flip turns while they swim at 2 miles per hour.

There is nothing in this world like a hairy pair of legs which appear detached from body as they flail and rotate in slow motion. Like the flight of the Monarch butterflies, the flight of the hairy white man-legs is a sight everyone should see once in their lifetime. Unfortunately, I have to see it three times a week.

Tivo:

I may be a modern man, but I might not be a real man and quite honestly, I'm not all that disappointed if I'm not lumped in the same group as GW Bush. I'm not a real man because I do not need to see ANY sporting event on television in real time. At this point, I can barely even watch sports without speeding through the commercials and time outs anymore. I can’t fathom why anyone would want to sit through 2 hours of commercials for a one hour game. I can watch a whole game in under an hour. I can watch regular hour long television shows in 43 minutes. As perfect as this seems to me, I know it has to end. The advertisers won’t allow it and I’m waiting for the fallout which I envision will be something like this. We'll call it the New Television:

New television for Drama:

Jack Bauer (on fancy cell phone): I can diffuse this bomb, but I need something to eat.

Chloe (looking surprising dour, yet amazingly perky, also on phone): How about I send you some pizza from Dominos? If we order three mediums, they’re only $5 each! Plus we get free bread dipped in fat and coated in sugar!

Jack Bauer (pausing dramatically, then whisper talking for some reason.): Great plan, but let me finish my Coke first.

Chloe: That must be refreshing.

Jack Bauer (staring into camera): Oh, yea, it’s the real thing.

New television for sports:

Announcer 1: It’s a touchdown to Chad Johnson!

Announcer 2: And now it’s time for the Chad Johnson Viagra football dance, brought to you by Miller Lite.

Announcer 1(shaking head disgustedly): You may want to tell the children to leave the room for a moment.

Announcer 2 (oblivious to announcer 1 as he starts dancing as well): Man, I love that dance.

Announcer 1: Is there something you’re not telling me?

------------------------

Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

Grandma

My grandmother died recently and I spoke at her funeral as the grandchild representative. I'm sharing this because I think we often take people for granted and don't think about what their lives really mean to us and that maybe it would help our relationships if we would just inventory what people really mean to us when they're still living. I'm sure it would help a lot of good relationships as well as those that are strained. I've altered my name to protect me from my previous posts. Thanks for reading:



As some of you know, I teach middle school, which many people would say you have to be a little crazy to do. Being a C-----, I’m highly qualified for the job.

As a teacher, you learn that people learn from every situation that they are in. But some of the best lessons learned are not those that prepare you for a standardized test, but those that teach you about life.

Grandma taught us all many lessons and I cherish the things that I learned.
I learned from her that nature is amazing, birds are beautiful, and you can still be in tune to the world around you by just taking some time in your backyard to see the beauty.

I learned that you’re never too old to learn something new.
I learned that there is no shame in standing up for what you believe in when you’re in the minority and you know in your heart it’s the right thing.

I learned that you can do the impossible, like raise 3 wild boys who all grew up to do good in this world and help make it a better place.

I learned that if you love to do something like paint, but you’re not a Van Gogh, you need to keep doing it if it makes you happy.

Show your art proudly. It shouldn’t be hidden away.

I learned that family is the most important thing. Each yearly visit I walked into her house feeling like a stranger and left feeling like I was losing a friend for another year.

Yesterday I was standing outside in the rain struggling through thoughts of some of the ugliness that life brings us.

As the rain poured down, I began to sadly think of Grandma. All I could see was gray, dreary things and all I could feel was the biting cold around me.

Suddenly a bright red cardinal, which was one of Grandma’s favorite birds, flew and landed in the tree right in front of me. We never see these birds in Colorado so I watched it closely. I noticed its beautiful scarlet color, and then I noticed the magnificently colored leaves of the tree it was in. The bird suddenly flew away and I saw the red and yellow trees shining, even in the rain, the beautiful green grass in the yards and I could hear the birds singing to each other from the trees.

I could almost feel Grandma with me and noticed that I didn’t feel as sad. She showed me that the word can be a beautiful place. You just need to take time and find the beauty.

Thanks for the lesson, Grandma.

The Modern Man errr... Give me a second, I'll Remember

Are you a modern man? Have you ever...

... had your significant other asked you to bring something down from a room, but as you enter it, you pick up a wayward sock, find a quarter on the floor, then noticed your Sodoku book. With super-human effort, you manage to avoid the Sodoku book, grab your wife's hat, then head downstairs with a proud smile on your face at overcoming that Sododu obstacle and a job well done.

"Did you get what I asked?" your significant other asks testily as you enter the room.

You stand, panic in your eyes, but decide you are sooooo prepared for this one. "Yes, oh beautiful one, I have the hat you requested. I have traveled long and through dangerous places to garner this truly wonderful and unique head apparal..."

No laughing. Then you have a long moment of dead air, as they say in radio. You suddenly realize that your ears may actually be sweating.

"You realized I asked for that yesterday?" she smiles, yet doesn't look happy.

"No." Sweat now dripping off your nose.

"Do you remember what I asked for?"

"My undying love?" you smile and try a waiter laugh as you wrack your brain for some clue as to what you were supposed to get. You end up slinking to the basement to watch football, and for some reason, know the name of every single player, play, penalty, and general history of both teams.

Have you ever...

...rushed headfirst into a room to grab something, then stood for over 3 minutes with your lips pursed, eyes stairing intently at the ceiling, trying to remember what the @#$@ you were there for? Well, as long as your there, you might as well listen to a tune or two on the 'ol IPOD while you finish that Sodoku.

You can't fight your brain.

As my great, great, great grandfather used to say, "You never forget anything, you just remember it too late."

That would be funny, but I can't remember his name.

Modern men have a lot on their plates. I'm not talking about eating and the obesity that is running amok in America. I'm talking about our poor minds trying to keep up with the modern world and the millions of things we need to remember to get through a day. This is having a detrimental effect on our memories. At least I think it is, I honestly can't even remember what the topic was.

Oh, yea. The power of remembering. To get to the bottom of this forgetting thing, I think it is important to study the etomology of the word "remembering." Broken into it's component language roots, remembering shouldn't be that hard.

RE means again, such as in refried beans will haunt you again and again.

Ing is some sort of bank whose commercials I never quite understand.

Member is a vague inappropriate euphamism that shouldn't be talked about in a blog such as this, but is often used in horror movies in such great lines as, "I can't believe that beast killed him by attaching that tentacle to his member."

Now, if you put all three parts together, it really makes no sense at all. I aplogize. I wonder where I was going with that, but I really can't remember.

But there is something in men's brains. They say that men think of sex every few seconds. However, I don't believe it. How the heck could we even remember to do that?

Men can remember stats like you wouldn't believe, they can remember to get their fantasy football team ready every week, and a joke they heard when they were 12 that still kills them at parties. Women of course use their brain power to remember every stupid thing we men have done our entire lives and save them up for arguments.

Woman: "Honey, do you remember when we were first dating and had that big fight after "When Harry Met Sally?" You're acting like that now."

Man: "That was funny, the scene in the restaurant. But I can't believe that one guy gave up his wagon wheel table. Good movie, though. Princess Leah was in it."

Woman: "You don't remember that big fight! How could you not? You're just pretending so I will stop yelling!!!"

Man: (Rambling on, despite the yelling.) "Did you know that Tom Hanks was once in a really bad movie about a guy addicted to Dungeons and Dragons? It could be possibly the worst movie ever. Even worse than Cabin Boy. I remember staying up to watch it since I played a little D and D myself. (now smiling reminiscently)"

Woman: (sobbing) "How can you not remember? HOW?"

Man: Looking generally confused and wondering if the couch is already made up for him this evening, then ticks off 10 Tom Hanks' films in his head, just for good measure.

No, ladies, we are not making this stuff up.

At least, I don't think we are. Quite honestly, I can't remember.
----

Have any stories you remember about forgetting? Send me an email and maybe I'll post-em.

The Modern Man: Putting the Dumb in Wisdumb

As one ages, it is assumed that you will gain wisdom at the expense of your youthful persona.

For instance, I've learned to CHECK the breaker box to make sure the electricity is off when wiring my basement. It was quite a shocker, but I did learn.

I've learned that middle school is a perfect place for puns like "shocker", but adults weary of them quickly. However, I'm not a quitter, which might be a jolt to some of you.

I've learned good music is ageless, but our stars of the 70's and 80's weren't ageless at all, even with highly paid for plastic surgery, as shown by the following pictures, here, here, and here.

However even with all these neat bits of wisdom, with age comes confusion as well. The world moves forward at a technological pace equivalent of a (choose one... bike racer, sprinter, football player, or baseball star) on steroids.

So, as I should be getting more and more wisdom, there are more and more things I don't understand. So I've possibly coined the phrase wisdumb, which seems to show the state I'm almost constantly in. I should be getting smarter and wiser, but I keep seeing more and more things that confuse me. For instance:

I don't get stickers on fruit. Dear Lord, I just spent three minutes poking and prodding my lunchtime plum to pull that sucker off. Now it's stuck to my finger and I'm trying to flick it in the trash. Of course, it's now on the floor and I'm wondering if I should just leave it there, or take more time from my lunch break to unstick it from the floor. Do I really need a sticker to tell me it's a plum? It was in the plum pile for @$#@ sake. Am I going to pick it up and ask, "Hmm, I can't remember what kind of fruit this is? Thank God! There's a sticker! It's a plum!"

I don't get how a group of three people in a car all be talking on cell phones at one time (I actually saw this the other day)? Are they talking to each other? Do they hate each other? Is this the new ménage a trios, and if it was, why wasn't I invited?

I don't understand when a video game copies reality, and within the game I control a player who finds someone playing a video game in that video game, is that person whose playing the video game controling me?

On that note, do we control the video game players, or do they truly control us as we play at 3:00 AM hoping to make the next level and go to bed to get that 3 hours of sleep before work/school starts.

If reality shows mimic the human condition, then I'm beginning to wonder what condition my condition is in.

I don't understand how my wife can talk for 2 hours on the phone with a friend she's going to see that day.

If myspace.com is really your space, but technically it doesn't take up any real space at all, shouldn't it be called mypretendvirtualspacethatno-onereallycaresabout.com?

I don't get how NASCAR vehicles turn to the left all the time, yet their constituents tend to vote to the right.

I don't understand why radio stations are giving away "free money". If they are just giving away money, do I have to pay them back?

I also don't understand why I haven't made a million dollars with the inclusion of my new google ads.

I do understand that the google searches the blog for topics that they can sell and then places relevant advertisements, but last time I checked, my two ads were "Teaching Aids" and surpisingly, "Toilet Parts".

Toilet parts?

Now that's something I understand.