DAY 3 – MAUI

On our first, full official day of the cruise we woke up in the Port of Kahului in Maui. Karina and I were ready to begin our cruise adventures with zest. Each of us had some specific goals in mind for our vacation: Karina wanted to get carded when buying a drink. She also made a promise to herself that she would ONLY use the stairs on the ship. A promise that I wish I was aware was being made at the time. I would have provided some subtle encouragement to bypass that goal (and if that didn’t work, I would have been prepared to beg!). It’s a vacation after all! And her promise to herself was going to directly impact me even though I did not care nearly as much as to whether she let herself down or not.

My goal was originally one-fold: to see a celebrity. I am ashamed to admit it but we do subscribe to possibly more than one celebrity gossip magazines: US Weekly and STAR. Although, let the record state I thought the first magazine was a patriotic tribute to our great country and the latter was an astronomy guide. I was wrong on both accounts. Being as cheap as I am, I would not let those magazines go to waste. So, I page through them periodically (no pun intended) and always run a across a picture or two of celebrities frolicking on a Hawaiian beach. So, I made it my goal to spot a celebrity, preferably frolicking. Once we got on board and looked at the boat’s entertainment schedule, my second goal was made apparent: winning the men’s sexy legs contest! I knew I had one main obstacle between me and my prize: a severe lack of melanin in my legs. I planned to remedy that on the islands.

Exhibit 1: Note 4pm on Day 7

Our plan for the first day on Maui was to rent a car, drive to the little whaling town of Lahaina, rent scooters and tool a round a bit, then visit the world famous Old Lahaina Luau. I had reserved a car through Avis intended just to get us the 30 miles or so from Kahului to Lahaina. As that was all it was to be used for and there were only two of us, I had reserved a small economy car (in the class of a “Nissan Versa” or “golf cart”). When we pulled up into the Avis parking lot the first thing I saw was a line of gleaming Chevrolet Camaros. Figuring I didn’t have much to lose, I asked the lady helping me with my rental what the difference would be to get in to a Camaro. She tinkered around a bit on her computer and finally said it would be about $100 more for the day. Despite being on vacation, I could not stomach the difference and sadly told her that’s ok, I’d be fine with the economy car. She asked me to wait one minute while she did one more investigation. Sure enough, she “discovered” she could get me in a brand new Chevrolet Camaro SS convertible for $2 less than I was going to pay for the Versa/Segway class of car. Trying to play it cool I said: “hmmmm, you drive a tough bargain, I guess I will take you up on your generous offer.” After we walked out of the building I calmly informed Karina that this was the BEST VACATION EVER!! Let my experience go to show you that 1.) it never hurts to ask for something and 2.) the lady I dealt with was a dirty stinkin’ liar originally, but soon proved herself to be the best stinkin’ lady on earth (besides my wife).

The car was amazing. Cherry red, giant 6.2L 426hp engine, paddle shifters on the steering wheel. It was crazy fast….I hear. Unfortunately the vast majority of island roads had a speed limit of 35 miles per hour. Let me tell you, I got up to 35 in a hurry!! I only wish there was a Hawaiian autobahn (or autokilimakihunowali as it would probably be called). The car was so nice in fact, we began to second guess our decision to rent scooters. Why pay for scooters when we had a sweet ride already? That and I began to reconsider riding around scooters without helmets. I felt hypocritical based on the instructions I give my kids on their bicycles. I could have rented a helmet of course but that didn’t have the same “cool” vibe being radiated from the Camaro. So, we passed on the scooter rentals.

 Here’s me in said Camaro

Lahaina was a cute little down with some quaint shops. We ate at a little crepe restaurant off the beach a bit. The lime crepe I got was spectacular! It was made by a real Frenchman! Or a dude with a French accent at least. We did a little more exploring in the Camaro and headed over to the luau.

Here we are hiking to Honolua Bay. Part of the “more exploring” we did.

The luau was one of the big vacation must-do’s for Karina. She wanted a taste of the authentic Hawaiian culture as performed by Americans to a giant group of tourists. And when I say giant, I mean several hundred. It was packed.

I must say, the experience was very eye-opening. I learned so much about the traditional luau experience. For example, it was expensive. Thankfully the luaus apparently had an open bar to allow the patrons to attempt to get their money’s worth from the experience by ingesting as much liquor as possible. Second, the first hour or so of the traditional luau involved milling around with complete strangers. We took the opportunity to enjoy the beach views, saunter over to the artisans creating sculptures from wood, and peering at the sand pit within which our feast was cooking. The remaining 50 minutes were spent at the table people watching.

At the luau. From left to right: Karina, absolutely no idea, David

The second hour of the luau is my favorite! Unlimited food! We enjoyed some fresh-made pulled pork, Taro salad, Poi, and other foods. It was great. And served in the traditional fashion: dismissing folks table by table to get in line at the buffet.

The third hour was the one Karina enjoyed most. It was the hula show! I’ve embedded some video below. However, knowing some people are offended by exposed midriffs, I have tastefully edited the videos for family viewing:

What was my opinion of the dancing? Excellent question. I thought the dancers were incredibly talented. The music was cool as well. However, the point of the luau is the dancers were telling a story through dance. This is the part that escaped me. As with our viewing of La Reve in Vegas, I just don’t get the whole interpretive dance thing. One specific example had to do with the daughter of a god or something whose boyfriend was horribly burned. To convey her feelings, she shakes her hips in multiple ways. I would say personally that would be response 3 or 4 for me if someone important to me was burned. I would have followed along MUCH better if, instead of the whole dance thing, she ran around with her arms in the air screaming “MY BOYFRIEND WAS JUST HORRIBLY BURNED!!!” I could follow that.

DAY 4 – MAUI

For our second day in Maui we had our first planned, boat-coordinated excursion. As if vowing to herself to not ride an elevator on the boat was not enough, Karina also stipulated we must take a very active excursion involving 2 out of 3 of the following: sweating, panting in exhaustion, swimming. So our first excursion was called the “Waterfalls & Rainforest Hike”. Karina chose it because the description said things like “The hike is two miles round trip and footing can be tricky in the wilderness”. Additionally the hike was rated a “3” on the boat’s activity scale. The “3″ rating was described as such: “Tours with this physical activity level involve physical exertion for extended periods. The terrain may be uneven or steep…Recommended only for the physically fit and adventurous.”

For the reasons listed above, I was looking forward to this vacation activity about as much as I’d look forward to a root canal. However, I thought I’d go along for the ride and have fun. I had visions of rappelling down cliffs and scaling high mountains.

When we showed up at the designated rendezvous point I was immediately concerned. It was clear my fellow excursioners hadn’t undergone the rigorous training I had in preparation for the experience. I thought to myself: “they are gonna be sorry…sorry AND sore.” Turns out I was the one in for a surprise. We were driven out to the site by our guide Roger who was actually quite informative. I saw all manner of folks taking a wide clear path as our guide led us along a narrow path into the “jungle”. It did not take a cartography expert to realize we were being led on the long way as demonstrated by this illustration:

Where A is our van, B is the route we took and C is the waterfall-fed lagoon. You’ll notice the short, straight path leading directly to the lagoon from the van. Apparently Roger did not.

Roger kept pointing out cool plants, such as bananas and pineapples then hurrying to let us know the ones we were looking at were probably planted there (as opposed to naturally growing there). As we walked out we saw the big M. Night Shayamalan reveal: we were on some dudes farm the whole time. I should have put the pieces together: private property, neat lines of pineapples, etc. So you are telling me I paid an amount of dollars I am not willing to share to be able to walk in circles on some dudes farm looking at many plants that aren’t even indigenous to the area? Say what?! Not the exotic locale I was hoping for. This is like offering a tour showcasing Sonoran desert wildlife and then going to the Tucson zoo. Sure, polar bears are nice to look at but they aren’t native to the area. Why would I want to look at a banana farm if that’s not even native to an authentic Hawaiian rainforest?! Now, at this point you may say “David, it’s a volcanic island that rose out of the sea. Nothing is native as all the flora and/or fauna was brought to the island by birds or humans.” And to that I say “whose blog is this anyway?” Stop interrupting me or I will have no other choice than to discontinue imagining your valid points.

Well, despite being slightly mislead about the adventure, at least there were mosquitos. And lots of them. I was disappointed as I saw my chances at the sexy legs crown fading away with each insect bite – although it would increase my odds at winning the coveted “looks like chicken pox legs” title. Thankfully Roger had some homeopathic “mosquito repellant” which everyone took. Apparently his definition of the word “repellant” is similar to the way I define “attractant” as mosquitos were all over us. He then offered his own concoction of after-bite itch relief. Which made me wonder why he bothered to make that in the first place if his repellant was effective. I assume he also had another miracle cream for when the after-bite cream inevitably failed.

I will say the entire hike was worth the time and money when Roger fluffed a very audible “air biscuit” as he was conversing with us. He did it with such confidence and carelessness that I can assume nothing other than he does it in conversation on a very regular basis. Afterwards Karina and I looked at each other exchanging knowing glances that said: “he did not just do that, did he?!”

 Here we are at the exotic lagoon. Not pictured are hoards of tourists who took the easy way.

Karina doing about the closest thing resembling an activity level “3″ on the entire hike. Our guide took incredible measures to ensure we avoided any terrain resembling the main walking path.

The rest of the trip will be chronicled shortly, and most likely in less detail. Stay tuned!!

We decided that we wanted to see as much of the islands as possible and thought a cruise would be a good way of performing that goal. The fact that there is only one regular cruise that goes around the islands made our decision easy.

The one cruise (that sets sail from Hawaii as opposed to the mainland) is from Norwegian Cruise Line aboard the Pride of America. I was slightly worried about cruising with a Scandinavian company. All I had in terms of background on their culture were Vikings and Ikea. I was worried that Karina and I would spend half the day trying to figure out where the buffet was: “is it the largenfluben or the deucenflusher? It must be the first because I am pretty sure the second is the restroom.” And I assumed announcements from the Captain would begin like: “Ha-llo everyone, this is Captain Sven. Velcome to our sheep.”

Day 1

Well, the big day finally came after more preparation than we had anticipated. Turns out handing over the reigns to your life for a week (especially during school) takes a bit of work. We left our moms with 7 volumes of instruction (including a video), cash to cover expenses, a Power of Attorney, will, and the list goes on.

In order to catch an 8am flight from Phoenix we woke up at 3am to hit the road at 4am. And, at about 4:12 we started our vacation a bit heavy-eyed. Both of us tried to catch up on rest during the flight but were both unable to sleep. I have never been able to sleep on a flight for some reason. It may have something to do with the fact that I am hurtling along at over 500 miles per hour, approximately 6 miles up, in a tin can, designed by humans, made up of 5 million parts that each must work perfectly to avoid disaster. Or it could be the seats.

We arrived in Honolulu around noon Hawaii time. After renting a car and checking in to our hotel we decided to do a bit of exploring. We decided to sample some of the local cuisine so our first stop was Round Table Pizza. While the pizza was delicious, I was slightly distracted by the birds frequenting the restaurant. Virtually all of the birds had some sort of a foot disfiguration. I could not figure out why. It turns out birds on some of the other islands are the same way. My theory is these club-feet are a natural survival adaptation for the birds. The feet are designed to incite pity in other creatures around it. And it worked in this case. I probably fed those birds a slice and a half of pizza. Of course another theory could be the human food is somehow increasing birth defects in the birds. I didn’t think about that one until later: oops.

Evidence of foot problems:

 We walked along Waikiki beach for a bit and then went to a shopping district. It amazed me how much like Vegas Honolulu was in regards to high end shopping. Thankfully Honolulu’s street-side flyers involved less nudity. We then hit an international marketplace that had a ton of stereotypical Hawaiian souvenirs.

Here’s us on the beach at Waikiki:

 Both of us were a bit tired from waking up so early so we turned in early and went to bed around 8:30. We each slept well…until 9pm when I was violently awoken to the sound of numerous explosions nearby as the hotel’s weekly fireworks started. Thankfully, they were relatively short and, after breathing into a bag for a few minutes, I went back to sleep quickly.

Day 2

The next morning we woke up naturally at 5:45 am (8:45 Tucson time). Getting up before 6 on vacation just felt wrong. Our one goal for Honolulu was to visit Pearl Harbor as we have both been very interested in World War II as of late. After a wrong turn or six we finally arrived. I have no idea how the Japanese pilots found the harbor as I had a hard time and I had a navigator, GPS, and road signs to follow.

We had really wanted to visit the USS Arizona memorial so we got our tickets, maps, and a headset to listen to an audio tour. As we had about an hour before it was our turn to head out to the memorial we hit the restroom before we were going to walk around.

Unfortunately some sort of incident had happened in men’s urinal number 2 (which was of course the only one open). The floor was covered in…errr….the stuff that goes in a urinal. But, since I was wearing shoes, I tiptoed in and did my business. Unfortunately after I did my business, disaster struck: I dropped a pile of paperwork from my underarm directly into the puddle. Looking back, I probably should have just let the paperwork be. However, there were witnesses and I was always taught to clean up after myself. So I reached in and grabbed my papers, neatly dabbing my fingertips into the puddle. I threw the papers away immediately and set about washing (and rewashing) my hands. When we got out, I told Karina that I was pretty sure what just happened was surely the worst thing to ever happen at Pearl Harbor…that day.

The USS Arizona memorial was a somber and fascinating experience. I wish we had more time to spend as there are multiple museums and memorials at Pearl Harbor. I could have spent two days there and I recommend a visit there if you ever find yourself in Honolulu.

Here I am at the USS Arizona Memorial:

As our time to board the ship was nearing, we set about finding an authentic Hawaiian barbeque in the neighborhood of the airport. The specific one we were looking for turned out to be a lot harder to find than we thought (I sure could have used a Japanese aviator). We finally settled on the “Airport Barbeque” which we stumbled across in a very industrial area. We felt safe though as a police officer was eating there at the time. The food was tolerable but certainly not what we were hoping. And of course, as we drove off we passed right by the restaurant we were looking for.

We boarded the ship and as is our custom, headed immediately for the buffet. The buffet is my favorite part of any cruise as the endless possibilities just make me feel all warm inside. And this buffet seemingly did not disappoint. There were traditional staples such as pizza, hamburgers, and sirloin, as well as some other dishes I don’t generally eat: seafood pasta with octopus, lamb curry, and something with duck. The food was fantastic…in theory. However, it was a little bland and slightly cold. I made up for this by shoveling more into my mouth. And then going for dessert…which was amazing.

Now, as this was vacation, my next step would have been to find a lounge chair and slowly settle into a food coma. However, it turns out I am now married to the second coming of Jillian Michaels, so we “got” to exercise. The ship had a running track and we decided to run a couple miles on it. Running on a moving ship turned out to be a lot of fun (with the exception of trying to avoid buffet revelers slowly searching for lounge chairs). Running forward on the ship made me feel like Usain Bolt. However, running towards the back against the ships movement was a little dispiriting.

Here is a picture of us running….

 For the record, Karina wasn’t ahead of me because I couldn’t keep up. Of course not. You see, I was..uh….about to lap her! Yeah, that’s it. For the second time!

Here’s more of us relaxing on vacation…

One very nice amenity in the gym was that every treadmill had it’s own television. You could choose from literally several channels of entertainment. Most of them being news organizations. And most of them dedicated to focusing on this story:

While keeping up with that story sure didn’t help my nerves, I had complete trust in our Captain as I had never heard of a Scandinavian ship crashing due to unsafe maneuvers. As a matter of fact, I hadn’t heard of any Scandinavian ships period.

(Except this one of course)

After running and lifting weights in at the gym a bit I hit the shower. And it turns out I mean that in a fairly literal sense. The shower turned out to be smaller than a European phone booth. Not to mention the ship was rocking and rolling requiring me to balance constantly. It must have looked like I was performing a drunk hokey pokey. There were knees and elbows everywhere! Thankfully they were cushioned by the shower wall. I can’t imagine what people in the adjoining room thought was happening as it no doubt sounded like a fleshy rock thrown in a dryer. And, it was even worse if you could have seen me, which was impossible as there was BARELY enough room for all the appendages of even one normal human male.

The rest of our vacation will follow soon….

Doug informed me that he was forming a team for the tournament made up mostly of his fellow professionals and he wanted me to play. I figured this was my best chance as it was close, cheap, and hopeful full of amateurs like myself. Looking back now, there are a few questions I probably should have asked. Should your Schwann’s man invite you to a dodgeball tournament, I recommend you ask the following:

1. What are the rules?
2. How many players are on a team?
3. Is everyone who comes out bloodthirsty and hellbent on the destruction of their fellow humans using weapons in the form of playground balls?

Also,

4.  What are the jerseys like?

Now you may wonder why anyone would bother to ask about jerseys. Well, I showed up to play and was surprised to find out this was the team apparel (even more shocking considering in the last Sahuarita league I played in I was wearing our church’s jersey):

Now, while it does look amazing draped over my pecs, I was less than happy about the graphics. I mean, black flames in the numbers? That doesn’t even make sense. Oh, and there was also the giant Satanesque figure and name of “TEAM EVIL”. In order to assuage my guilt in wearing the shirt I had to convince myself EVIL was an acronym for Everything Virtuous In Life and the figure was actually a sunburnt superhero with hair like Wolverine whose goal in life was to reward people who helped others.

And while this shirt was bad, the other option was a jersey that said “7 Deadly Sins” and each jersey’s “name” was a different deadly sin (ie. Lust). Thankfully I didn’t have to wear that, but if I did I was hoping once of the sins was “General Lack of Coordination”. These jerseys really made me reconsider what I thought I knew about Doug.

Now, pretty much everything I know about dodgeball came from the movie “Dodgeball” and numerous repressed memories from junior high school.

So, my form of preparation involved putting on a protective “cup”.

I really only had two goals for the experience: to have fun and to come back with my facial features in the same spot as when I left. So I didn’t know what I was in for when I actually walked on the court and observed the pros start warming up. My first thought was “oh geez, oh geez, oh geez.” These guys (and one amazingly agile and strong-armed female) weren’t so much throwing the dodgeballs as they were launching them. I began warming up by throwing a ball at the fence. While I was throwing with literally everything I had in me, my balls were going much slower than everyone else’s so I had to keep saying things like “oh man, my arm is cold” and “can you imagine if I really threw this slowly? Ha!” Doug then decided he wanted to practice catching the ball so he stood in front of the fence while everyone took turns throwing at him, until it came to me and I more or less lobbed it at him. He was tossing the balls back pretty hard to the other guys and gingerly looping them back at me. I could tell he was taking it easy on me. Not wanting his pity and knowing I wouldn’t get better unless I started trying to catch some faster shots I asked him to “throw it a little harder.” MISTAKE!!! Literally before I knew it there was a red ball dribbling away from me and a growing welt on my chest. To this day I am not sure how he did it but I am reasonably confident a teleporter was somehow involved. I knew I was in trouble (and also that Doug has no idea what the phrase “a little” means).

Now that I was sufficiently freaked out, I looked around to gauge the competition. There were three teams who showed up. Two of the teams were comprised of the professional Tucson Dodgeball all-stars (and me) and the third was a group of terrified amateurs. I felt bad for them knowing they signed up thinking it would be a fun thing to try with a bunch of other Rancho Sahuarita folks who have never played. They probably even laughed to each other thinking “wouldn’t it be hilarious if we were the only newbies and literally everyone else who showed up (except one) was a professional player?”

Most of the pro players (wherein pro just means they play in tournaments for money…not as a primary occupation…but they are still crazy good) where very cool…albeit with “spicy” vocabularies.

Well, we started playing and I gradually began finding my place. It was usually on the sidelines chasing down balls. But when I played, I also became slightly more confident. They say in football that nervous players just need to be hit once to knock the nerves out. I assumed the same principle held true and that I just needed to be beaned once to get in the zone. Well, it took a while to get beaned, not because I am an elusive ninja, but because the other team didn’t sense enough of a threat in me to bother wasting a ball in my direction. But when the first ball came at me, it came fast! I managed to avoid it with an instinctual seizure-like move I call the “herky-jerk”. It only works when accompanied by a high-pitched shriek of terror which I definitely included.

You may be having a hard time grasping the “feel” of the tournament so I figured I’d help you out. The picture below is a picture of a standard playground dodgeball like the ones we used.

This is a picture of said dodgeball three inches from your nose:

Now, take a look at the first one and look quickly at the second to experience a ball flying at you. Now to truly understand the game from my perspective, do it again and imagine your teammates yelling things like “catch the ball!” and “why are you even here?” all the while against a backdrop of male (and one female) body odor. Of course, my view was more like the following as I was curled up in a ball with my eyelids doing their darndest to protect my LASIK investment:

I did eventually figure out that I needed to rely on deception rather than arm speed and/or accuracy. And by deception I meant I walked around like I owned the place and would have absolutely NO problem decapitating anyone with a dodgeball should the desire arise whilst I did everything in my power to avoid having to hold an actual dodgeball. I did score a few sweet outs towards the end using my patented no-look move I carried over from basketball. I knew my knack of passing the ball directly into my teammates ankles would pay off someday!

The team I happened to be on was clearly the best of the tournament as demonstrated by our winning all but 1 of approximately 33 rounds of play, However, based on some shady tournament organizing, the championship ended up resting on a single “winner take all” game with the other pro team. This despite us having beaten them roughly 16 out 17 previous times. I call shenanigans!

As luck would have it, we ended up losing. But, our team did end up walking away with fabulous Rancho Sahuarita gift bags that included things like a keychain and chapstick. That and I accomplished both of my goals. Hazah!

Now this was going to be a new experience all around as none of us had ever been to a U of A women’s basketball game. I’ve been to my share of men’s games and I had no clue how this would stack up. I am not going to lie, the rest of this blog may or may not play off some women’s sports stereotypes, namely that the women, while each and every one them being more than capable to humiliate me on the court (in basketball, arm-wrestling, battleship…you name it), are less athletic than the men and the sport isn’t as popular. Of course, my second notion that the women’s sport is less popular than the men isn’t so much a “stereotype” as it is a “fact”, as supported by an article I found on Bloomberg.com (http://www.bloomberg.com/news/2011-04-01/women-s-basketball-teams-operate-in-red-as-salaries-break-college-budgets.html). A few key nuggets: there are virtually no women’s college teams supporting their own programs with revenue, partially because there is very little television market and the games sell fewer tickets at cheaper prices than men’s games. Thank you Title IX for the resulting increase in tuition!

We bought our tickets for $4 from the USA Youth coordinator. Alyson’s was free as she was less than 3 years old. The first difference I noticed (besides the affordability of the ticket and the fact that there was apparently enough room to allow 2 year olds in for free) was the ticket said “General Admission” with no seat designations. When we walked into the arena, we saw a plethora of available seats and several large blue drapes blocking off a large portion of the arena’s normally available seats. This led to a very comfy, inside-a-giant-shower-curtain feel. It took everything I had to avoid belting out my traditional shower song “Don’t Stop Believin’”. We walked right down to the front and scored some very nice seats. I’ve often heard people with nice seats at the men’s games remark that it is surprising to see how tall the men really are. Well, from our seats, we could see how normal-sized the ladies were. Except of course the 6’5” center.

We sat through most of the first half anxious to watch Ashton. Then, with only a few minutes left, the USA coordinator asked if I wouldn’t mind coaching one of the two teams. Thinking I couldn’t do any worse than Kevin O’Neil, I agreed to it.

With about 4 minutes to go in the half, our coaches and players migrated to the court to prepare for the game. A U of A coordinator was there to give us instructions. The first thing she said was how surprised she was at the crowd we must have brought out. I was skeptical at first as there were not too many kids at all and Ashton had the largest contingent of supporters with 6 people. However, as I thought about it I realized when you are dealing with the size of crowds normally expected at the women’s game, an additional 17 people makes a striking difference. My hunch is the crowd was a result of the U of A team’s newfound non-ineptitude (eptitude perhaps?). They are 11-1 and off to one of their best starts ever.

I knew two of the kids on the team from the last basketball season I coached (one of them also because he is my son). However, I did not know the two other players I was given. As our four were going to be playing a team of five, I was hoping we had a few diamonds in the rough. I immediately set about assessing my team’s talent. My son Ashton is a smart player and a good defender. The other kid from our team is a good shooter and unaware of the meaning of the word “pass”. So I asked the other two kids how long they had played basketball. Their answer: zero. Apparently they were some kids from the flag football teams who were recruited to fill out the roster. Well, at least there wouldn’t be thousand of people watching them try the game for the first time. And the coach from the other team turned out to be a football coach. I knew that was our advantage.

Just before the 1^st half of the ladies’ game came to an end, the USA leader gave the kids a little speech wherein he told them it was an honor to play on the U of A floor. A sentiment I agreed with completely. He told them to go out and touch the “A” at center court when they ran out. Which the kids dutifully did. Some of them doing it multiple times….during the game.

The game itself went really well and Ashton had a great time. He even made a flew highlight-worthy plays which are shown in the video below.

I was very happy that the crowd was so into the game (this is possibly because they couldn’t tell a difference in size and talent between the actual game and our exhibition…hey-o!). They cheered on the kids as they made baskets and good plays. I think the kids were so pumped that they didn’t even notice. After the game, the kids were each given a keychain (for all of their keys of course) and went back to their seats for the rest of the game.

As my family isn’t too into sports, we decided to leave discretely after half time and get some ice cream. It turned out being pretty hard to be discrete as our departure meant half of the arena’s attendance was leaving at once. We enjoyed our ice cream and, incidentally were able to see just as many slam-dunks as if we were to have stayed for the duration of the game.

Well, the other night Karina gave me full discretion to pick a movie. I went to the Redbox and did not see anything I had been really looking forward to seeing. So, I checked down as it were to my B-list: movies that had sounded interesting on earlier visits but were not the most attractive in the box. In this case, we went with Limitless. I was excited thinking this movie was an overdue biopic on the life story of Chuck Norris. Unfortunately, it was not.

Limitless is a movie about a down-on-his-luck writer who stumbles upon a miracle pill that unleashes the normally untapped potential of the human brain. It stars Bradley Cooper and Robert “I have nipples Greg, could you milk me?” De Niro.

Incidentally, this movie was filmed before Bradley Cooper was recently named People Magazine’s Sexiest Man Alive. This can only mean that last year’s winner Ryan Reynolds has tragically passed away. Oops, a quick Google search indicates I may have jumped the gun a bit on that supposition. Apparently Ryan Reynolds is still alive. What the?! How did he lose his sexiness? What does this award mean anyways?! A man loses his sexiness on only 1 year?! Well, explain 2 time winners Brad Pitt or George Clooney to me! I am going to assume that, once named People’s Sexiest Man Alive, it goes to their head a bit. And, as I am sure the ladies can vouch for, there is nothing sexy about an inflated ego…unless you are a cast member on Jersey Shore.

I haven’t done too much research on the topic (I swear) so I am not familiar with the origins of the award. Is there a reason it is called Sexiest Man Alive and not Sexiest Man Ever? I am assuming there is general consensus that someone who has since passed was clearly the Sexiest Man Ever so now the award has to be qualified. Who was it? Ghengis Kahn? Abraham Lincoln? Perhaps King Solomon with his “cheeks like a garden of spices” and “body like bright ivory glowing with lapis lazuli”?

Well, regardless, congratulations to Bradley Cooper for joining an elite group of men who have conclusively proven themselves as the sexiest man alive on earth. A group of men that includes (and I am not making any of these up) Harry Hamlin, Mark Harmon, and Nick Nolte.

This is a picture of former Sexiest Man Alive Nick Nolte. Apparently I have been going about this “sexy” thing all wrong with my pursuit of basic hygiene. Consider THIS my application for Sexiest Man Alive:

Have you ever stopped to consider how luck we are to live in the time we do? Not in terms of the technology that makes our lives relatively easy, but the fact that we are alive during a time when there are currently 21 living People’s Sexiest Men Alive! I propose that, just like the living US president’s get together every year, the sexiest men do as well to commemorate their amazing achievement.

Also, the selection of Bradley Cooper means 15 of the 21 Sexiest Men Alive have been American. I think we should mention that in the national anthem somehow. Join me in chanting: USA, USA, USA!!

Alright, I am off the Sexiest Man Alive topic. As I titled this post Limitless Movie Review I should probably throw in a few observations of the movie.

Karina and I actually both enjoyed this movie. It was well-acted and had some engaging visual effects. We both found the premise very interesting. Bradley Cooper’s character is introduced to the (non-FDA approved) pill that unlocks access to the 80% of his brain power that is supposedly not used. In practicality this means that Bradley’s (if I can call him that) character can recall anything he’s read, watched, or observed immediately. Thankfully for him, he has been exposed to classic literature and fighting techniques. Both of which help him in his ensuing adventures. Were this me, this would mean easy access to a compendium of Hardy Boys trivia and the ability to laugh nonstop at brain reruns of Bob Saget America’s Funniest Home Videos. Perhaps not practical, but I am sure we can all agree AWESOME!

Once his character becomes a genius, he uses it to climb the social ladder and make tons of money on the stock market. That’s all well and good, but I find it kind of absurd. If I took a pill that completely unlocked my brain’s potential the first thing I’d do is finish a ding-danged Sudoku puzzle. Then I’d do something that would positively impact mankind, such as devising a pair of earbud headphones with a cord that doesn’t tangle.

Well, as one would expect, Bradley’s market success causes him to run afoul or a business magnate (De Niro) and a Russian mobster. The rest of the movie follows his attempts to get himself out of trouble, sometimes depending only on his regular brain.

I won’t give away the rest of the story as I recommend you watch it. But Karina and I came away feeling satisfied. And it did serve to remind me to take my daily multi-vitamins.

Months ago Karina asked me if I would attend the midnight showing of the next installment of the Twilight movie series. As it seemed so far away (thus giving me plenty of opportunities to find ways of bowing out) I agreed. As the saying goes “out of sight out of mind”. Sure enough, I forgot about it until it was too late. The one saving grace is we did not get tickets for the marathon showing of the entire series leading up to the premiere of Breaking Dawn. I may be a good husband, but I would not rule out taking up Munchausen syndrome to avoid 8 hours of vampires versus werewolves.

Alas, the night of the premiere came upon us. And just so those of you who were unfortunate enough to miss experience can feel included, I have provided a time-phased rundown of the night:

8:30 – Karina and I arrive in the theater parking lot. First stop: caffeine top-off. Our normal bedtime is in the 10 o’clock neighborhood and, assuming no hiccups in the plan, we weren’t getting home until 2:30 in the morning. One Grande Triple Skinny Peppermint Mocha Soy Latte later, we were ready to go. Incidental note: If you would like the experience tasting heaven, try the drink above. Amazing. And low in calories and saturated fat! You are not truly a man until you order a drink like that for yourself.

8:40 – We arrived at the box office and received our tickets. We were told to head around the building to the back of the line. Unfortunately, the theater did not have the courtesy to warn us that we should have brought reserve water and a Sherpa for the trek we were about to undertake. Rather than having us head left on a shorter path to the back of the line. We were told to go right. That way we would have the opportunity of feeling the humiliation and frustration of knowing exactly how far from the front we really were.

Side note: I did not see many folks dressed up in Twilight-related fan gear. This made me feel better. I was “this” close to dressing up like Edward Cullen. I felt it was a perfect fit for me as I have a gleaming white, hairless, sunken chest just like Robert Pattinson (the actor playing Edward Cullen). I was sorely disappointed once I saw the movie however (see below). My backup plan was to wear a “Team Bella” shirt, but due to a lack of time for preparation this shirt did not get past the concept stage of development.

8:47 – We finally got to the back of the line. We scored spot #2,137! It is times like these I wonder what in the world I am doing and isn’t this one of the reasons I bought a DVD player? (also to watch the complete Police Squad series on DVD of course).

9:22 – Bored, I take an informal survey of the line and come across the following demographics: 96% females; 3% male slaves of love; 1% people with obscene incomes (Occupy shout out – Holla!).

9:37 – The line is moving! I am as excited as an emaciated teenage vampire getting his first whiff of emo human blood in biology class!

9:45 – We are joined in line by our friends Dan and Erica Farmer. Dan, much like me, is a good husband willing to sacrifice time, sleep, and pride to accompany his wife to a Twilight premiere. We are ecstatic to see each other:

10:30 – A friend of mine who is following my updates on Facebook decides to text me taunting my masculinity (accusing me of missing vital parts of the male anatomy) and bragging about how his night includes watching football and the assumption of other “manly conquests”. He shall remain nameless for the sake of his wife. He forgot to mention that he was going to accompany his wife to the Twilight premiere a day later. Additionally, is it possible for one’s social life to sink any further than to breathlessly await Facebook updates from a friend who is standing in line to watch a midnight viewing of a Twilight movie? I submit it is not.

11:00 – We are finally admitted to our theater. After settling in to our seats, Dan and I make the traditional husband run to the concession stand. Normally Karina and I buy a medium popcorn (or a large if we are feeling adventurous). Knowing that I had another three hours until food ahead of me, I opted for the Extra Large popcorn. I am so used to being upsold to the next popcorn size I nearly said “no” instinctively after ordering my popcorn. However, the cashier did not attempt to upsell me as I had bought the, up until now assumed mythical, “size for which there is no upsize option.”

Status of my mood: Excited to sit down

11:20 – I stare absentmindedly at the blank movie screen. There are no previews or advertisements running at all as we all wait until midnight. Come on Harkins!! You have a captive group of bored moviegoers. Take advantage of us by attempting to sell us your wares!

Status of my mood: Bored but comfortable

11:30 – A team of theater employees come in with several giftbags. We are told they are prizes for being the first to correctly answer a trivia question. I was feeling pretty confident of my chances if the category was science, sports, or current events. But no, the question was “what three vampires make up the Volturi?” My guess of Lestat Lioncourt, Dracula, and Count Chocula was unfortunately incorrect. Would you believe someone actually knew the answer to that question off the top of their head?! For their correct answer they were awarded two loyalty cups, a loyalty t-shirt, and 2 tickets to a future movie. Based on the fact that the person knew the answer to that question, I am 90% confident those 2 passes will be used for another showing of Breaking Dawn tomorrow.

Status of my mood: Groggier

11:40 – The people behind us are informed that a person in a wheelchair may need their seats. They had chosen to sit in the handicapped aisle. They were not too happy. I may or may not have heard a comment to the effect of “if he’s in a wheelchair, he doesn’t need a seat.” What is it about attractive teenage vampires that brings out the worst in people?!

11:51 – Time for my pre-movie bladder evacuation. Heading towards the restrooms I see a line stretching 10 ladies deep coming out of the women’s restroom. Thankfully the men’s restroom is as wide open and empty as a Midwestern prairie. Or course, it smells more “urine cakey” than I envision a prairie smelling.

11:57 – You seriously cannot make this stuff up. Karina looks at me with weary eyes and says “I’m so tired”. I console her with my gentle response: “I DO NOT WANT TO HEAR THAT! WHOSE IDEA WAS THIS ANYWAY?!”

Actually I did not say this. The fact that I was at a midnight showing with Karina should indicate that I clearly have an inability to stand up to my wife. (Just kidding)

Status of my mood: Nappy

Midnight – Showtime finally!! I do not want to spoil the movie for anyone, but here are a few random observations I made during the course of the movie:

One of the previews was for a dark live-action Snow White remake called “Snow White and The Huntsman.” I think I will choose to pass on that one as the 1930’s cartoon version was a bit too gritty for me.

I had heard that ladies would cheer upon seeing Jacob or Edward fort he first time. I was not disappointed. Not only did they cheer for Jacob, but he was shirtless within the first 60 seconds of the movie! I prepared myself for 2 hours of feeling inadequate but was pleasantly surprised that Jacob remained clothed for the majority of the movie.

During the honeymoon scene I saw more of Robert Pattinson’s upper torso than I could have ever wanted (even if I was told watching inordinate amounts of his upper torso would bring a financial windfall). I was surprised to see wisps of chest hair!! Rather than feeling disappointed or inadequate, this actually gave me hope. After over 120 years as an immortal vampire, he was able to eek out some chest hair. This means there is still hope for me!

Overall I thought the movie was well made and interesting. The two hours actually passed much quicker than I thought they would. While I may gripe and moan about my sacrifice to watch it with Karina, I do not regret it. It was a fun experience and I am hoping I racked up some credits for when the third Batman movie opens.

I had only seen a preview or two for In Time so I didn’t have a good idea as to what the plot was. I shall give you a short summary for the benefit of understanding my review. SPOLIER ALERT: I will not spoil the end of the movie (or will I? I guess we’ll see how this goes).

Synopsis: It is either sometime in the future or in some parallel universe. Man has been genetically engineered to stop aging at 25. Each person is then given 1 year to live. That year basically becomes the source of currency. Instead of dollars, everything costs units of time (ie. Coffee for 4 minutes). This premise I found to be highly intriguing. As Karina may attest, I can be a cheapskate. How much worse would I be if, instead of money, I was actually shortening my lifespan? I tell you one thing: the deodorant budget would be reduced to zero! In the movie, people earn additional time at work, gamble it with games, and steal it from others. That being said, here is my review of the movie based on a few significant areas:

1. Visual appeal: This movie rates off the charts in the eye candy department. I can’t help but think this is by design. You can imagine what everyone looks like since they stop aging at 25. And yes, Justin Timberlake looks amazing. What I don’t understand is why everyone looks like they stepped out of an Abercrombie & Fitch advertisement. Apparently along with wrinkles, this society is missing excessive calories and saturated fats. I don’t get this. Everyone’s physique indicates they work out 2 hours a day. But, with a year to live, the LAST place you’d find me is on a treadmill!
2. Acting: Overall, the acting was pretty good in this flick. I am by no means a connoisseur in this area, but everyone was mostly believable, with 2 exceptions: Justin Timberlake’s serious face looks like it’s his “trying to hold in a smile to be serious” face. Also, while I love Cillian Murphy as an actor, he is not good enough as a 35 year old to play a 25 year old.
3. Popcorn: Tasty. Just a little butter
4. Message: Oh, now don’t get me started!! THIS is the area of the movie where I had a problem. I really don’t mean to get too political (a white lie perhaps) but it felt as if I spent $7 per ticket (thankfully it was a matinee or my soul would have felt that much dirtier) to watch an Occupy Wall Street propaganda film. I’d put money on this movie being written by either Michael Moore or anyone else in Hollywood. Now please, don’t get me wrong. While my views may tend to lean a little rightish, I believe as much as anyone that the less fortunate in our society need our help (how we help them is another story for another blog I will try to resist writing). My main concern is the method of redistribution used in the movie: theft. You see, this was very much a modern telling of Robin Hood. And, a fan of Robin Hood I am not. The only good thing to come out of the Robin Hood story was a certain song that included the lyrics “Oodle La Lee, oodle La Lee, Golly what a day.” As a matter of fact, as a kid I was the only one of my friends who rooted for King John. One of the stars of the “In Time” movie makes the following point regarding stealing from the rich to give to the poor: is it really stealing if the people you are getting it from stole it in the first place? First of all: YES!! Yes it is still stealing if YOU ARE STEALING! Second of all, you and I are not the judge as to whether something was stolen or not. That’s why we happen to have a little thing called the judicial system to make those determinations (I’d hate to think of a society where everyone could make a determination as to the guilt or innocence of others and mete out justice accordingly. Didn’t we try that in the Old West and the only good things to come out of that period is Stetson cologne, chuckwagon dinners, and 28% of the movies John Wayne made).

   In the case of this movie, the rich people had manipulated the economy such that there was an incredible wealth (ie. Time) gap between the classes. But, as you can infer, as the commodity was time to live, the rich people were actually murdering to get richer as accumulating more time meant less time to live for the poor folks. And one did not need to merely infer in this case. I will paraphrase a quote from one of the rich bad guys: many must die for a few to achieve immortality. REALLY?!?! The rhetoric against the wealthy has been ratcheted up such that rich people are now murderers?!

   I won’t spoil the entirety of the end of the movie, but there was an amusing point near the end where, after much of the wealth disparity had been rectified, workers in factories (which of course were in the poor area) left their posts. At least they got that part right. If wealth is distributed evenly nobody’s going to want to do some of the less glitzy jobs required for a society to function. Like trash collectors, sewage overseers, or proctologist. Everyone will instead try to find the easiest job requiring the fewest qualifications such as Paint drying observer or Kardashian spouse.

As always, I still enjoyed the time spent with Karina. After the movie, I was able to use my post-movie-teeth-gritting to good effect eating out at La Parilla Suiza. The only thing that could have made the evening better would be for us to have watched our second choice movie instead. I am sure I would have gotten far less riled up watching Tower Heist: A rollicking comedy in which a group of vigilantes attempt to steal money from a rich magna….aww nuts.

Now, this may surprise you, but I may have exaggerated the impending doom slightly. Part of the process for obtaining life insurance is to provide a blood sample for analysis. Another part is answering 347 questions about every time I coughed and whether my hobbies include anything dangerous such as skydiving, motorcycle riding, or crocheting (needles!!). I was granted the life insurance policy which was nice as it meant the life insurance company is betting I survive another 20 years. It’s always good to have those greedy 1% folks reassuring me I’m gonna make it…a while longer. I decided I wanted to see my blood test results to settle my own curiosity. Turns out I am glad I did!

Most of my results verified what I felt, that I am a reasonably healthy 31 year old. However, in the section about heart risks which includes cholesterol and triglycerides my results were off the charts…and not in a good way. Specifically, my triglycerides were WAY off. For those of you unaware with this term, triglycerides are not something an old prospector would use to blow a hole in a mine. Rather, it is a measure of fat in the blood. The expected range for a healthy person is somewhere between 10 and 200 units of whatever the measurement is. My level of 583 registers somewhere between “very high” and “tell those important to you that you love them” (incidentally, I believe the cream inside a Twinkie comes in  around 600).

It turns out that Triglycerides are extremely diet sensitive. And considering I did not watch my diet in the least for the last few years I was not surprised to see a problem there. In fact, the only time I looked at nutrition labels on food was when I happened upon them in search of the barcode while in the self-checkout line. When I went to the movies, my literal request from the snack bar was a large popcorn with as much butter as you can legally give me (turns out they can legally give you A LOT). I’ve ruined many a shorts by setting those popcorn bags on my lap in the theater. Additionally I enjoyed whole milk with my scrumptious cinnamon toast crunch every morning.

In the interest of improving my health and living to see myself pay for my kid’s college and weddings (wait a minute…) I decided to modify my diet in an effort to bring down my heart risk factors. Turns out all of the “diet” food I had vigorously avoided all these years isn’t as bad as I thought. I always hated Sweet & Low because anytime I eat something with Sweet & Low my mouth tastes like I’ve been sucking a penny for the next 5 hours. Thankfully, I found Splenda which is delicious! And I’ve found healthier alternates for some of the junk I would eat. For example, instead of a bowl of ice cream at night I have 60 calorie cups of vanilla pudding. And it turns out carrots make a good substitute for French fries (I imagine that I will eventually convince myself of this as long as I keep telling it to myself…that’s just a theory of course).

I’ve also started reducing the amounts of food that I eat. Normally I’d eat until the food was gone or my stomach cried “uncle”. Now I am trying to eat more reasonably sized meals. Not only is this helping with the old waistline but it turns out eating less IS CHEAPER!! And if anything serves as motivation to me, it is saving a dollar or two. As a matter of fact, now that I think of it, rather than going to Subway for a healthy sandwich (without a sugary drink or side of chips) I think I may just eat the $5 bill and save the gas money. I’d be getting plenty of fiber and a $5 bill can’t taste as bad as a penny, can it?

Thankfully the DA (or District Attorney for those of you who don’t watch Law & Order) in my case hasn’t put two and two together yet to come to that conclusion. Currently they only have me pinned for, as they call it “Parking Violation”. Well, let me tell you, there most certainly was violatedness. I apparently took two meters in my van on a recent trip downtown. As I see it, that means I stole a parking space (albeit temporarily) whilst in the possession of a deadly weapon!! And by deadly weapon I am obviously referring to our van. Never has a clearer case of armed robbery occurred, except if you count numerous bank robberies accomplished with guns/knives/flamethrowers/throwing stars. That’s right, don’t act like you know me because YOU DON’T! I am a street-hardened felon who has no respect for authori…oh crud, just a second, I have to make sure my library books aren’t overdue….…and we are good. Crisis averted!

I received my citation last month in downtown Tucson. Karina and I took the kids to the Tucson Children’s Museum for, as we had planned it, an afternoon of learning and merriment. We saw some good parking spots available directly across the street from the museum. As with much of downtown, these were parallel parking spots with meters. There were no markings in the road (clearly indicated in this Google Streetview picture of said parking spots)

so Karina and I discussed and decided that I should park alongside the meter to ensure we were parking at and paying the appropriate meter. Now, I do not mention Karina to pass along any of the blame in this situation. I mean obviously I took her comments into very serious consideration, and her and I jointly own the van, and she can be very persuasive sometimes, but I would never ever even insinuate that SHE WAS TO BLAME. In all seriousness, she was not.

Regardless, we parked (even paying for twice the time we ended up needing – I had better keep that on the down-low lest I have “feeding meters” added to my substantial list of a charge), enjoyed the museum and came back to a ticket on our window. When at fault, I have no issue facing up to the consequences and reconciling the issue. This time however, I felt I was taken advantage of. As there were no markings, I was being required to follow a set of nebulous and unknown rules, most likely to fund the donuts at a meter maid luncheon or something.

Well, I returned my ticket marking the “request a hearing” box so that I, in the interest of defending my principles and really exploring the justice system in our country, may plead my case before a judge. I was also hoping they’d just dismiss my citation to save money on the hearing. Well, BACKFIRE!! I got my summons the other day. On September 6, guess who’s supposed to go before a judge to plead his case? This guy!!

I still have not decided how I am going to handle this situation. As I see it, I have two options: roll over and pay the fine, or go to court and fight the man! On one hand, paying the fine alleviates the hassle of this situation. And while going to court has the potential of getting me out of the fine, I would have to practice my defense, print up some large pictures (large pictures are a must at trial – according to Matlock), spend probably close to a citation’s worth of money on gas to get downtown, not to mention I would have to iron a shirt. And there is also the distinct possibility that, in an attempt to defend myself, I completely humiliate myself by stammering, turning red, hyperventilating, fainting, and then vomiting on myself. Not to mention I just found out that, were I to lose in court, I have to pay an additional $40 in court fees!! For some reason, it seems like the system is stacked against trying to defend myself. Looks like I had better get to the rolling over.

Of course, all of this goes out the window once the state realizes my major armed robbery offense. I just hope I look good in stripes, or is it orange now? Maybe it’s  orange stripes (for some reason I have a strong urge for some orange sherbet). If I get locked up in Sherriff Joe Arpaio’s prison, I’ll be forced to suffer the embarrassment of wearing pink underwear. Thankfully I am already conditioned to that from the time my U of A t-shirt snuck into my load of unmentionables (which I have ironically just mentioned).

This was a decision we did not take lightly. In addition to prayer and deliberation, we also spoke with several members of our families whose typical reaction was “WHAT?! ARE YOU CRAZY?!” and “what does she do again?” My typical answer was “she runs a webhosting company called ShoppePro (the website is here…along with proof on the “About Us” page that I am related to the talented genius that is her: http://www.shoppepro.com/). She assists work at home moms with setting up businesses on ‘the internet’, which is all the rage with the kids today I guess.”

But still, people ask “but what does she DO?” Well it turns out it’s actually not that hard to explain. Now that I spend hours a day sitting directly across from her, I can tell you exactly what she does: mostly typing, some moving the mouse around, and then some thinking.

All kidding aside (for a brief period of time), as a webhost, she rents website owners the web server space needed to store their website. Her company also offers many other services and, most importantly, awesome customer service (which I hope to contribute to). While this concept seems easy in theory, it is actually super confusing (at least to me) and has only reinforced the pride I take in being married to such a smart and talented woman, as Karina basically taught all of this as well as web design and some other stuff to herself. The only thing I can question is her judgment as she chose to marry me. Perhaps I am nothing more than a trophy husband (alright “friends” I’ll finish your joke for you: “yeah, a LAST PLACE trophy”).

I left Raytheon in June and have found the life of a work at home dad to be quite an adjustment. Some of the Pros are more time with my children, a flexible work schedule, “generous” dress code, and a true sense of ownership in what I do. Some of the Cons are the lack of a defined schedule (which my Type A personality needs lest I degenerate into a mood that can only be described as “grumpy”), missing my friends from Raytheon, and having to deal with slightly more immature, sensitive beings who are crying more often than not (just kidding Raytheon!).

While I envisioned immediately jumping in to this new work arrangement by gleaning all of Karina’s knowledge through osmosis, it has turned out a bit different, though not in a bad way. The kids have been out of school for summer so part of my new job has been playing Mr. Mom. This was a role I was born for (says my hairless face and lack of natural aversion to the feces of a 2 year old)! I’ve been hanging out with the kids, taking them to places like the pool and the library, and doing some housework like the dishes. And lest you get the impression that I have been neutered, I have also been doing manly house things requiring the use of a hammer and nails.

As time goes along I expect my new position to bring me topics for future blogs. And, now that I work from home, I do not fear the possibility of reprisal from the federal government for posting blogs as I possibly did with my last employer. However, now that I am home, it feels as if I am busier than I was before. There is volunteering with church, school meet and greets, the PTO, etc. Ah, the life of a soccer dad…