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    Chicks Dig the Wheels

    March 22, 2012 by · Leave a Comment

    There are few things that scream “80’s” like roller skating does. Notable exceptions being neon leg warmers and excitable weatherman Chuck George in early spring. Karina and I both spent a good portion of our formative years in the 80’s roller skating so, like most normal parents, we decided … [Read More...]

May
06

Birthing Pains (in the butt)

By | Family Life, Random

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As most of you are aware, Karina and I are expecting baby number 3 at any moment. Alyson Grace is 39 weeks old and already displaying some personality traits similar to her mother’s, namely the stubbornness as she refuses to  vacate Karina’s womb. (Note to self: Karina would probably not like that last sentence, remember to change Karina to “a mule”, but definitely do not leave BOTH in).

For some reason Karina is finding having a 10 pound human inside her to be a slight discomfort. As such she is doing her best to try everything short of a crowbar to persuade Alyson to enter the world. This has been a learning experience for me. I did not realize how many wives’ tales there were out there (and by “out there” I mean “on the internet”) that supposedly provide the key to inducing labor (example: “this method is GUARANTEED to induce birth within 40 weeks!!”). Here are some of my favorites:

Walking: This one seemed promising and was supported by various web sites, which means it must be true. As Karina is fully preggers, I told her I would take the bullet on this one and walk while she rested at home. After several trips around the block, I am sorry to report, nothing happened.

Eggplant parmesan: Eating this devilish creation came highly recommended from several sources. In theory, I can see why it would work. I assume the convulsions brought about by vomiting the eggplant out after consumption could trigger similar uterine contractions. Karina and I hit the Olive Garden recently to attempt this method. Despite all of the actually tasty stuff on the menu, Karina showed her gumption (which I promptly told her to cover) and ordered the eggplant. She was also kind enough to force me to try a bite. The dish tasted nothing like I expected as I was expecting “good”. Rather, it resembled what I imagine eating a breaded mouse turd covered in sauce and cheese would taste like. While I am exaggerating slightly, it wasn’t my favorite item on the menu.

This method has also failed to bear fruit, or a baby.

I can’t say I blame the baby for refusing to come out. She is currently stuffed upside down in pitch blackness practically eating her knees. While this seems miserable to you and I, it is all Alyson knows. Therefore, in her mind (I am confident she is fully capable of rationalization currently) there is a 50% chance the outside world brings sweet relief. That means there is also a 50% chance it can only get worse!! Against those odds, I’d probably do the same thing and do everything in my power to remain in the sweet, sweet uterus, breathing my own urine.

The good news in all this is that Karina is currently progressing. She stands (actually sits mostly) at 3cm dilation. Many of you may be wondering what this means. Well, I will tell you (you may want to take this opportunity to clear children from the general area): 3cm is approximately 1.18 inches.

So hopefully we will be rushing to the hospital soon, her in intense pain and me approximately the shade of a ghost with xeroderma pigmentosum (me praying the whole way that we make it to the hospital so Alyson’s first memory of her father isn’t a girly scream followed by a loud “thud”). When that day comes, I will make sure you are all informed within 3 months.

Jan
23

What I’ve been up to

By | Family Life, Random

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As you can probably guess by my lack of recent updates, I have had a very busy couple of months. I just want to hit the highlights:

Karina and I celebrated our 7th anniversary on December 29. My mom and sister were kind enough to offer to watch the kids so that Karina and I could spend the night together. We decided to head to Phoenix. Karina found a good deal on a nice Hilton resort. By the time we made it to the hotel it was about 10:30 at night as we had stopped at IKEA (great collection of eclectic furniture), Rawhide Steakhouse (great steak and, surprisingly, asparagus), Harkins theaters (great popcorn and comfy seats), and Walgreens (great selection of canes, reading glasses, and back massagers).

When we arrived at the hotel, we were greeted by a very kind customer service manager who, as it turns out, went to school at the University of Arizona. We struck up a friendly conversation and he told us that, since it was our anniversary, he would give us the “Ambassador suite.” I personally think this had to do more with the fact that nobody had reserved the “Ambassador suite” that night. This is in no way surprising because I cannot imagine there are too many ambassadors traveling in early January.

Well, let me tell you, “Ambassador” sells this suite short! This room was fit for a political representative of a foreign country! There were two TVs, a conference table with six chairs covered in gaudy fabric, and an eight-inch wide balcony. Karina’s favorite part was the fact that there were two bathrooms. I liked this as well as it meant I did not need to waste energy on a courtesy flush. (It is this exact romantic spirit that has led to seven wonderful years of marriage)

Well, as we were only spending one night, Karina and I had packed only the “bear essentials”, such as pots for honey, books on catching wild deer, and extra musk. I jest of course. But we did pack light. This means I packed all of my necessities (deodorant and a change of underoos) in a backpack while Karina squeezed her items in a duffel bag, three suitcases, a railroad boxcar, and 3 small U-Hauls. She would probably not like me saying that, particularly because I usually pack heavier than she does. But it is a fun stereotype to propagate, so what the hey.

One of my favorite perks from our room was the complimentary bathrobes. They don’t provide those at Motel 6! I took advantage of the opportunity to live like the other half lives by putting on the robe and walking around asking Karina “Where is the caviar, love?”

Overall it was a great little getaway. Much better from our last anniversary which was spent horse riding in the wilderness with a bitter divorcee who firmly believed in the 7-year itch.

It’s a girl! Yep, we had our 18-week sonogram (I guess it was more Karina that had it) and the baby is healthy and female! Lynsey is very excited to have a little sister. I started thinking about the sonogram process and it made me laugh. Here we are with what amounts to a radio camera trying to take a picture of the poor baby’s “southern hemisphere”. For some reason this is not only tolerated in our society, but encouraged. However, if someone tried to do the same thing with a camera after birth, the result would be immediate arrest and the new nickname of “pervert.”

I don’t want to see that food again until it’s solid! During the two weeks following Christmas, Ashton and Lynsey managed to take the opportunity to share a stomach bug. Ironically it is the only thing they will share. First Lynsey caught the bug and, right when she was finished with it, she graciously gave it to Ashton for a week. The particular bug had the effect of turning their booty into what amounted to be a water faucet for a week. Then, much like a fireworks grand finale’, the last effect of the bug is a violent expulsion of the last dinner (pizza in both cases) from the mouth. If that were not gross enough, Ashton was so kind as to donate his partially digested pizza on Karina’s lap. It is much funnier now, believe me. Thankfully Ashton did everything in his power to make sure following “expulsions” did not enter the toilet as that would require far too little nauseating cleanup.

Good news though. Both kids are fine now and neither mom nor dad caught the bug (knocking on wood).

Well, hopefully I’ll be able to keep everyone updated a little more frequently in the near future. I will be done with school on March 12 and will therefore have 4 hours a week to blog whereas that time is currently scheduled for a weekly nap.

Oct
09

Moving

By | Family Life, General Escapades

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It is time once again for my quarterly blog. I have been keeping too busy to post, what with all the work, school, family obligations, and sleep that I have been occupying myself with. Most recently, Karina and I have been busy with all the work that goes into buying and selling a house. 

We have begun the process of looking for a place to move to before August of next year. Ashton starts school next year and we want to be in a house and school district that we can stay in for the 12-16 years that he will be in school. Not to mention the other 4-8 years if he decides to go to college. I’m kidding of course. I don’t want to toot my son’s horn but: toot, tootle-ie toot. We are confident he will do just fine in school. 

Last month Karina and spent about a full week and a half deep cleaning or house in preparations to put it on the market. That was nowhere near being close to anything resembling the semblance of fun. Apparently over the last few months the dust bunnies have been multiplying like rabbits! It’s times like dusting when I least like to think of what dust consists of: dirt, dead skin cells and dust mites. At least I didn’t have to touch ALL of the dust because I managed to inhale most of it. 

So after a full week of scrubbing, painting, and dry heaving we had a realtor come over to inform us that it wasn’t worth selling right now. Luckily, we bought the house at the very peak of the housing boom and we’d have to cut a pretty little check to sell the house. And by “little” I mean “titanic”.  The realtor did mention that the rental market is booming and we would probably have no problem finding a renter. Karina and I are contemplating this route because we feel that, after analyzing every square inch of our house during the cleaning process, the only things missing were discarded beer bottles in the backyard and holes in the wall.  

We know renting is a risky prospect, but it is an avenue we have thought about pursuing in the past and never had the gumption to follow. Our realtor suggested that we make sure we are very comfortable with the people who will eventually be living in our home. Optimally, we’d like to rent to someone we know or someone who knows someone we know. Preferably a nice, responsible person, possibly a nun who knows someone we know. Of course I jest as religion is one of the criteria one cannot use to disqualify prospective home renters. I wonder if discriminating against anyone who is not a woman wearing a black outfit trimmed in white is ok. This would conveniently narrow the prospective renters down to nuns and Judge Judy. 

Perhaps in the meantime I can find someway of making our house more attractive to buyers. I suppose there are several options: putting in new floors and cabinets, completely landscaping the yard, or finding someway to make a famous event happen in my house. That way the realtor can say “yes, this actually is the house where a grown man broke the record for most time spent in a (take your pick) diaper/sundress/cardboard box cut into the shape of an airplane (or perhaps all at once!)” 

Of course renting/selling is only one half of the moving equation. While this is a terrible market to sell a home, it is an awesome (or in the words of Dora the Explorer: FANTASTICO) market to buy a home. Karina and I have decided that we would like to move to Rancho Sahuarita. We’ve found that living in northwest Tucson isn’t as close to

Brazil as we would like. Plus, my drive to work would be reduced by over 50%, we would be close to in-laws, and most importantly, there is a super Wal-Mart located minutes away. Not to mention Rancho Sahuarita is a good environment to raise a family in. 

We’ve checked out the home builders and have found a particular model we like. The base price is very attractive and we’ve found the options will only cost an arm and a leg down to the kneecap. Those homebuilders are tricky. The models are outfitted in the most expensive options and furnished as if it was one of Bill Gates’ summer homes. Once you look into it though, you realize practically everything is an option: tile, crown molding, sinks. As it is a buyers market, the builders are throwing in some incredible incentives. For example, one builder offers $15,000 towards options. That’s the equivalent of a new Mazda3 in upgrades!! In any other market you would be shelling out the 15 g’s yourself for the upgraded garden tub and additional outlet in the den. 

The thought of buying a home (with the exception of the whole money part) is exciting. We can’t help but imagine the additional space and trying to figure out where we will put our furniture. Of course, it takes time to build a house (6-8 months) and we haven’t even signed on a solid line, much less the dotted one. For now we will have to be content with our existing house that is sparkling clean. In the meantime, I can begin contacting everyone I know to see if they know anyone trustworthy looking to rent a house. While I am talking with them, I should also find out where one gets adult diapers and a sundress in a size 10.

Aug
30

Tattoo

By | Random

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I have recently begun contemplating getting a tattoo. Some other members of my family mentioned doing it themselves, and that got me thinking. It’s difficult to decide on a tattoo however. I definitely want something special that I will be content with for life. I am afraid of being the guy sporting a giant caricature of Walter Mondale and Geraldine Ferraro, or a “Milli Vanilli –Best New Artist Grammy 1990” phrase on my back.

A few of the options I am considering or have ruled out:

Barbed wire around the bicep. Fashionable and would accentuate my 12” guns. However, I am afraid that when I am 70 and my skin is drooping, it will look like I’ve been lassoed by a bag of loose confetti. More realistically however, I am concerned that, as my biceps are sure to continue growing to near cartoonish proportions, the barbed wire design will stretch to near invisibility, rendering my $100 wasted.

Names of my family inscribed in Japanese. This is the option I am leaning towards. First of all, it would inscribe the names of the three most important people in my life on my very body: Ashton, Lynsey, and Tom Selleck. I’m kidding of course. It would be my kids and Karina. I like the look of Japanese writing and it would make others ask about its significance. A sentimental mystery, so-to-speak. I can only foresee two risks. First, having mentioned this to Karina, she immediately felt that would mean release from all wifely obligations (not like that sicko) as her name would be permanently marked on my body. Her rationale is I would not choose to leave her for any reason due to the potential shame and humiliation brought on by having her name on me. While I would never think of leaving her regardless, I also pointed out that her name would be in Japanese. Unless Takahiro Kobayashi asked what it meant, I could say it means virtually anything with noone being the wiser.

The second risk is another potential World War against

Japan. If ever came to fruition, the choice of language used to inscribe their names would be unwise. I think I’ll take that risk however. As long as I don’t have the names inscribed in Russian, I should be fine.
The Wal-Mart logo across my back. While those of you who know me immediately understand the passion with which I support Wal-Mart, I think I will avoid tattooing their name across my back. First of all, one never knows when they will be found topless surrounded by union members. A giant Wal-Mart logo would be synonymous to a giant “beat me to a bloody pulp with your fists and OSHA required safety goggles” tattoo in that situation. And second, my loyalty is not to Wal-Mart per se, but rather the low prices offered on their vast array of products and services. Were someone to ever be able to undercut Wal-Mart on my groceries, I’d shop there in a heartbeat.

So, if you have any recommendations regarding tattoos, I’d be curious to hear them. And no stealing my ideas please. I’d only be slightly bothered if one of my reader got a Wal-Mart tattoo. I would be darn near irate if they tattooed the names of my wife and kids on their arm though.

In unrelated, but important to the Varner family news, one of our two guinea pigs,

Quincy, headed off to the giant timothy hay bale in the sky. He recently grew a large tumor and, surprisingly, its hard to find many vets that operate on guinea pigs. Such operations are also not covered by insurance. We were advised by the vet to make him comfortable, and he was up until he departed. Quincy was an awesome pet. He was friendly, docile, and rarely confused my finger for a carrot. On the bright side, Toby (the other guinea pig) has a new roommate. The new addition is named Leo.
For those of you who are unfamiliar with guinea pigs, they are quite possibly the most friggin’ awesome pets on the planet. They are friendly, small, (relatively) tidy creatures who are good with our kiddos. I have also realized an unexpected benefit in a reduction in insecurity regarding the size of MY front teeth. I highly recommend them to people looking for some sort of rodent to feed and potentially hold and caress.

Aug
08

Vacation

By | Family Life, Kids, Travel

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We recently returned from our family vacation to Monterey, California. Karina, Ashton, Lynsey and myself went out to see my sister Stacie and her hubby Adrian and to take in the scenery/activities in the northern California area. Overall, we had a great time. The scenery was beautiful, there was so much to do, and we were not all swallowed by the earth in a cataclysmic earthquake. Below are a few of the highlights:

Arrival in Oakland: Our flight from Tucson proved uneventful. We were hungry though since it was around 1 in the afternoon. Without any reservations, we found a Burger King in the vicinity of the airport to grab some lunch. After walking in the restaurant, I immediately noticed we were out of place (and judging by the looks of the other restaurant patrons, they noticed it as well). It was then that I realized I was in a Burger King in the VICINITY OF THE OAKLAND AIRPORT! Thankfully, we were able to escape the restaurant not only with our lives, but with satisfied stomachs as well. I think our safe escape had a lot to do with my quick thinking: referring to everyone as “homie” allowed me to blend in with the other patrons, not unlike a chameleon…a very out of place chameleon.

Spirit West Coast: The whole reason we chose to visit Monterey at the beginning of August was the fact that the Spirit West Coast festival was being held then. It is a huge gathering of Christian Music artists, including our family’s favorite, TobyMac. Thankfully, we were warned to bring jackets. The one thing I forgot however was sunscreen. While Karina and I managed to shield the kids from being burnt to a crisp, I wasn’t so lucky. Had it not been for the sunglasses, I might have been able to fool those around me into thinking I normally had the skin tone of a tomato. Unfortunately, since I had sunglasses on the whole day, I looked like this for the duration of the trip (See Exhibit A):

The festival was a ton of fun however and the kids loved it.

San Francisco: We decided to spend the next day in San Francisco. Personal recommendation: if you wish to spend a day in San Francisco, plan on arriving there before 4pm. I did not heed my own advice. Despite the limited time we had, we were able to do some cool stuff. We drove on Lombard Avenue (twice…apparently my GPS unit has decided that the “optimal” route should include 3 times as many stoplights as would seem logical and a top speed of 7 miles per hour, therefore it had us drive Lombard en route to any San Fran attraction), we visited Pier 39, and we took a cruise under the Golden Gate bridge and around Alcatraz. It was a blast.

It was on that cruise that I was nailed by a seagull (see Attachment 2). While I would have normally been frustrated and grossed out by having seagull excrement on my pants, I must say, I was quite impressed. The seagull managed to hit me square on the leg from a height of about 20 feet during winds of at least 20 miles per hour. Well done foe. Subsequent attempts by me to return the favor to the seagull proved unsuccessful.

While we didn’t see nearly as many of the tourist attractions in San Francisco as we would like, we did get a good taste of the “Rice a Roni” city. And I must say, while it is crowded with tourists, earthquake prone, and windy, it is at least cold.

Cannery row: On Sunday, we spent some time on Monterey’s famed “Cannery row” before hitting the Monterey Bay Aquarium. Obscure trivia: “Cannery Row” received its nickname due to the feeling of being packed like a sardine in a can with all the other tourists. I jest of course. The area was beautiful and there were many shops selling interesting trinkets.

We also discovered during our time on Cannery Row that my seagull incident was not random at all. I discovered that it was part of a coordinated, calculated attack on my family after Lynsey was hit in the head with seagull doody (see Exhibit B for photos just after the attack and after the intense bathroom cleanup effort). Additionally, Karina’s window on our rental van also received a heaping dose of digested whatever-seagulls-eat.

Monterey Bay Aquarium: After visiting Cannery Row, we met up with my family to check out the Monterey Bay Aquarium. I had heard many good reviews and seen pictures of the aquarium, but I was still not prepared for the size of the aquarium and its coolness quotient. Karina, myself, and the kids really enjoyed all the exhibits. I also learned a lot about oceanic wildlife. For example, I was privy to seeing sharks swimming gracefully and touching a sea urchin. The beauty and grace displayed by these animals have convinced me to no longer refer to attorneys as sharks or sea urchins. From now on, I will refer to unscrupulous lawyers as sea cucumbers…them beasts are ugly!!

And speaking of ugly and things that are not…. The many jellyfish on exhibit were awesome! I found the most beautiful variety to be the Warty Comb Jellyfish ironically. I’m not sure how they got their name, but I assume it was some sort of transcription error. Or perhaps the person who discovered them was named Mr. Wartholomew A. Comb.

California’s Great America: We spent two days in San Jose at the Great America theme park. This park turned out to be a great place for families as there was a wide assortment of thrilling rides and kiddie rides. And since Karina is physically unable to ride “spinny rides” (and by physically unable, I mean physically unable to keep her food down after partaking in these rides) I had the opportunity to ride virtually every kiddie ride there. I was also able to experience a few of the big rides as well. Thankfully it was towards the end of our visit, after I had ridden the large thrill rides that I noticed this sign (see addendum 2.67B).

That is right, the company I had completely entrusted the lives of myself and my children to is unable to spell the word ‘accompanied’. Pay no attention that the name of the ride that sign is found on was “Granny Sweet’s Garden”. That ride was intense. Also, pay no attention to the part of the sign saying the ride isn’t intense.

Dennis the Menace Park and paddleboats: We spent the last few hours we had in Monterey at the Dennis the Menace Park. This is a cool place for kids to play, and the parents can join in as well. This huge park includes typical children’s play equipment such as slides, swings, mazes, and an out of service locomotive. I must say, the train was a cool addition to the park. I would have loved that as a kid and, truth be told, I enjoyed exploring with my kids. As it is located in the middle of a children’s park, the train has been left in its original condition with no unnecessary additions such as safety netting or bumpers on sharp corners. Karina and I were left to wonder how many teeth have been lost on that train over the years (and by ‘lost’, I mean ‘forcefully ejected’). Lynsey found a unique way to explore the train when she decided to faceplant onto the sand from about 4 feet up. Judging by her reaction, it wasn’t as fun as she had thought it would be. Picture of my kids having fun on the locomotive below:

After the park, we paddleboated on the adjacent lake with Stacie and Adrian for a bit. The experience was very relaxing for Karina and the kids as they did not have to paddle. As attested by the boob and back sweat on my shirt, it was more of an intense workout for me since I was the lone paddler on our craft the S.S. Huff-and-Puff. It was fun though and I did achieve a minor sense of payback after Stacie showed me how rewarding it was to chase seagulls in the paddleboats. Pictorial proof that we were on a paddleboat supplied below (or at least proof that we wore orange life vests near water):

Our return trip to Oakland and flight back to Tucson were (thankfully) uneventful. Upon arrival in Tucson, Ashton was allowed to sit in the cockpit of the airplane we flew on. He really enjoyed that and we are grateful to the Southwest crew for the experience. The picture below shows the copilot instructing Ashton how to do official flight stuff. I’m pretty sure that was the point where he was demonstrating how to pull up satellite TV on the console while nobody is looking.

Karina, the kids, and I were glad to be back home to say hi to our pets and sleep in our beds. Now we have unpacking to look forward to. I think I am also going to practice my “aim” so I am ready the next time I run across a seagull.

Jul
29

The Dark Knight…and sandals

By | Movies, Random

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I recently had the opportunity to catch a little flick that appears to be flying under the radar: The Dark Knight. I am a huge Batman fan and let me tell you, this film did not disappoint. The acting was superb, the action was intense, and the story was more than you’d expect out of a superhero flick. My only complaint has to be with the utter lack of “Kapows” and “Bla-Blams” following Batman’s punches. Perhaps that is a little nugget they can add to the inevitable sequel (I can’t wait to see who plays Harvey Dent this time!).

As genuine as the acting and dialogue was, there was a point in the movie that made me realize how movie scripts differ from real life. There comes a time that Batman (**Spoiler Alert** Bruce Wayne is Batman’s alter ego!!) tells Lucious Fox (**Spoiler Alert** Morgan Freeman’s alter ego!!) to enter his name into a computer. Lucious obliges and types “Lucious Fox.” It was then that I realized that this movie would have been 4 times as long had real-life dialogue been used. If Batman asked me to type my name into a computer, I would have promptly followed that with a few questions, such as: “ok, first and last name?”, “do you need my middle name, or will an initial do?”, “first then last or last then first?”, and “is a space required between names?” (not to mention many other questions like “when do you sleep if you are a corporate mogul by day and crime-fighting vigilante by night?”). Obviously, those questions were never asked in the movie. And I guess, as genuine as it would have made the movie, I would have been irritated if they had.

Speaking of movies, a theater is one place I absolutely refuse to wear flip-flops (you never know how cold the theater will be, and let me tell you, the last thing I want while watching a movie is cold tootsies). A few years back, my list of non flip-flop conducive places consisted of pretty much…well…everywhere. My wife’s insistence that I wear thongs, as I grew up calling them, eventually wore me down and I can often be found sporting them. For the most part, they are not bad. I am still perplexed by their basic design. Who in their right mind would design a “shoe” that makes the strap holding the sole run right through one of the most sensitive parts of the human body: the skin between your toes? That’s like designing a pair of pants that are held up by your eyelids.

I am also annoyed by one other aspect (disregarding of course the “snap” that accompanies every step). I’ve found flip-flops and motorcycles have one giant thing in common: they are both nearly impossible to back up with (my experience with motorcycles also indicates they are nearly impossible to go forward with too). I hate being at the store and realizing that I need to put ‘er in reverse while I am wearing my thongs. No matter how powerfully I curl my toes, I always manage to step out of my flops and onto the cold tile floor. So not only are my feet freezing, but they are also accumulating whatever residue has been left on the floor and I am certain to experience the mother of all toe cramps within seconds.

So to summarize things, Batman = good, flip-flops = bad. And just to clarify, the only thongs I step out of in the store are the flip-flop variety as opposed to the French swimwear variety (trust me, I leave those on!).

Jul
19

Disney

By | Family Life, Kids, Travel

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In order to increase traffic to my blog, I have decided to discretely place various popular search terms within the text of my blog. My hope is that my blog will rise in search engine results whilst you, the reader, barely notice (Britney Spears) a thing.

I hadn’t planned on writing a blog for a little while (Barack Obama) since I did not have any topics that I felt were (boobies) blog-worthy. However, this evening as I read pre-bedtime books to my kids, I realized that I (how to remove gum from hair) have been harboring disdain for a specific company. I felt it would be cathartic to release those feelings in a (what is the capital and gross domestic product of the nation of Zimbabwe) blog.

I know this will surprise and more than likely upset quite a few people (except those of you who read the subject line I guess), but the company my ire is directed towards is Disney. I know that I am not alone in these feelings. For many years feminists have decried the lessons the Disney’ princess movies teach little girls: that they will be rescued from life’s troubles by a knight in shining armor…or, as in Disney’s case, generally a singing prince in pastel leggings. Now, that may not be the right message to send little girls, but I can’t blame Disney alone for that when other items like Barbie, Bratz, and Girl Scouts of America are teaching messages that are just as detrimental. I can blame Disney for the message they teach our young boys.

Granted, there are few “prince charmings” out there for little girls to find, but I’d be willing to bet there are far fewer princesses in the Disney mold for boys to find. For example, how many women do you know who wake up in the morning singing to the birds and rodents who have been watching them sleep (Cinderella)? Or, where is the woman who stops into random houses to tidy up in the owners’ absence (Snow White)? Most disturbing of all, I fear boys will waste entire lifetimes looking for their one true love who has somehow developed invisible gills with which to extract water from oxygen (Ariel – she is a double-offender, what with her ability to talk under water without the bubbly sound I always end up making…the one no amount of yelling can overcome).

The frustrating part is these princesses are only vehicles to move glitter-coated merchandise and bring in visitors to their theme parks. I, for one, used to LOVE Disneyland. However, I’ve noticed the magical-quotient of the rides is inversely proportionate to the size of the crowds in recent years. My family used to go in October and we would virtually own the park. Nowadays, you need a Fastpass just to use the bathroom. At least I get to pay hundreds of dollars on food/admissions/locker rental to experience the Disney magic (and by “magic” I mean claustrophobia and wallet-empty-itis).

For those have you who have never been, the park is neatly divided to several themed areas, or “lands” with corresponding rides (and vendors). For example, there is (somewhere to sit in the shade is my) Fantasy land, where you can relive some of Disney’s most favorite movies thanks to the magic of 1950’s posterboard and black light technology. There is also (trying to push a stroller through thousands of people navigating a path the width of a window ledge is an excruciating) Adventure land. My favorite has always been (I wish I didn’t have to come back) Tomorrow land.

Now, I know it is probably unfair of me to be so harsh. I do understand that I am not the park’s target demographic. Judging by the makeup of guests at the park (most of whom I’ve made it to second base with due to the overcrowding of the narrow paths), the target is middle-aged Asian men. I have to believe that children are probably a target as well as cartoons abound.

Also, in the interest of full disclosure, there are some attractions that I really do enjoy. For example, I LOVE Space Mountain, Pirates of the Caribbean, and the Tiki Room (what? The tune is catchy!). Unfortunately, my experience on those rides only takes up about 12 minutes of the 5 days one must spend at Disneyland in order to experience all the park has to offer.

All that being said, I do look forward to seeing my children experience Disneyland the next time we go. I have a feeling watching their eyes light up will make the entire experience worthwhile. In fact, I anticipate getting so caught up in the moment that I splurge on $8 churros for the entire family.

Jun
23

“Masculinity”

By | Random

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So I have a bone to pick with our country. And despite the fact I have no idea how a bone would come to be picked or why that analogy relates in any way, I know enough to understand it means I have a gripe with our society. It has to do with “masculinity”. For those of you who may be thinking, “that is a big word, what does that even mean?” I will tell you. “Gripe” means to nag or grumble. (note to self…remove that last line before posting this blog. The last thing you need to do is insult all two of your readers! Also, buy milk at the store)

Just take a quick glance around our society and everything from the movies to the parking lot at Home Depot and you’ll see that one who is masculine must have two out of three of the following traits: big muscles, a large truck, or a hairy chest. Now while there are many people who fit this criteria (Brad Pitt, Harrison Ford, Rosie O’ Donnell come to mind), I do not happen to be one of them. My frame would be most aptly described as “wiry”, I drive a 1.6 liter hatchback, and my chest is as smooth as an ice rink immediately post-zamboni. Thankfully, my wife’s definition of masculine is different: height and the ability to ride a motorcycle. Unfortunately, that translates to strikes 4 and 5 for me.

What set me off on this rant was a situation that happened to me tonight at school. I was rolling my wheeled briefcase into an elevator at school when I ran into a coworker. He proceeded to ask if my wife knew I had her bag. As if riding in an elevator isn’t awkward enough, they provide no place to safely shed masculine tears of embarrassment (the whole thing is a mirror!). That was not the first mocking comment regarding my rolling tote. In fact, it has earned the nickname “Rollerboy” at work. For some reason, I am beginning to get the feeling that others are viewing it as a combination purse/stroller.

This sarcastic derision of my method of carrying my assorted work items, laptop, keys, contact lens solution…essentially everything, really has me perplexed. Why must I lug 20 pounds of “stuff” on my back in order to conform to society? Is chronic lower back pain another characteristic of masculinity? If so, I want none of it!

Another area that I seem to be ridiculed about (there are plenty of these areas, I will have to save the others for future blogs) is my choice of beverage while drinking socially. I am not a big drinker at all. In fact, I have never been drunk, but let me tell you, this one time I was buzzed out of my mind! Regardless, my choice of alcoholic beverage is usually green or blue in hue and topped with either a cherry or an umbrella. Now, let me ask…WHAT IS WRONG WITH THAT?! Apparently something, because every time my wife and I go out, the waitress puts the beer for my wife in front of me and my frilly tropical cooler drink in front of her. And as if that kind of humiliation isn’t bad enough in front of my wife, try ordering a “mango passion cowboy roper” in front of coworkers. I’ve tried to acclimate to beer for social occasions such as these, but I’d prefer to pay far less than $4 a glass if I want to taste urine.

At any rate, you can clearly see that my nonconformity with societal standards of masculinity doesn’t bother me at all. In my mind, I am really a man’s man. While I may not have chest hair or large muscles, I do other manly things like watch Deadliest Catch, change out light bulbs, and keep what amounts to my diary online for my friends to read…wait a minute….

UPDATE! After great public demand, I have relented and posted a picture of rollerboy. As a token gesture, I have also included myself in the picture. As you can clearly see, the very non-staged photos show the intense back pain brought on by carrying my briefcase and the incredible relief/convenience of using the “wheel” feature of the bag. And yes, those are corduroy pants. Jealous?

 

May
31

Exploring more senses

By | Random

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I’m back with more insight into my spiral into insanity. I’m sure people are starting to wonder about me due to my obsession with bathroom humor and germs. Well, not to disappoint, I’m going to combine those subjects and talk about some situations we all face. Rather than being crazy, I like to think of myself of an everyman’s hero. I explore the “sensitive” issues one would not dare bring up in public. Therefore, you are welcome.

 

I chew gum incessantly. So much so that I have developed jaws of such musculature that I can chew even the hardest crusts at Beyond Bread with only relative discomfort. I do it primarily for the breath-masking qualities of gum. I think of it as doing a favor for those around me who, as an alternative, would be gaced with sniffing the remnants of my spaghetti and broccoli dinner. (those of you who regularly read my musings know that the last sentence was hypothetical as it involved me eating a vegetable – regardless, the point is gum smells better than stinky food).

 

However, I have recently started questioning how big of a favor I am actually doing after I recently whiffed another person’s gum aroma. It made me realize that, much like the rotten egg smell added to natural gas alerts you to the presence of dangerous fumes, the gum smell is only serving to confirm my suspicions that I am inhaling air that was residing in the prson’s lung no more than 3 seconds ago! How gros is that? Answer: very.

 

So what is one to do in that situation? Well, I’ll tell you. Just like your options upon entering a stinky public restroom, you can do one of two things: breathe through your mouth or breathe through your nose (technically you can also hold your breath, but by the time you realize it stinks enough o hold your breath, you are only providing a warm, moist, safe haven for the stank molecules to harvest in your lungs). So which option is best? Lucky for you, I have comprehensively broken down your options and provided advantages and disadvantages of each option:

 

Option 1: Nose

Advantages: Nasal hairs and additional travel length will filter some nasty particles (or nasticles as I like to refer to them).

Disadvantages: Smell sensors allow you to smell exactly what you are breathing.

 

Option 2: Mouth

Advantages: Lack of smell receptors on tongue allow for the false assurance that you are not breathing in nasticles.

Disadvantages: Unobstructed entry for nasticles into your body. Must pass over (and probably on) to your tongue.

 

Actually, there is an option 3. You can “release” a masking odor of your own to cover the original odors.

 

Advantages: Attempted quote from Austin Powers: “everyone likes the smell of their own brand.”

Disadvantages: Embarrassment that arises if anyone hears you. Potentially dragging the smell with you on your clothes.

 

Which option is best? Well, I’ll leave that to you. But, in case you plan on testing my hypotheses in the nearest public restroom, allow me to provide you with some reading material:

 

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/05/28/science/space/28nasaw.html?_r=2&hp=&pagewanted=print&oref=slogin&oref=slogin

 

That article really made me glad I didn’t become an astronaut. As if the thought of riding a solid rocket hundreds of miles up into the vacuum of space didn’t scare me enough, I didn’t realize relieveing oneself involved such close proximity to fan-propelled jets or frozen urine icicles.

 

While the article is ripe with comments and quotes just begging for discussion, I will just mention my favorite quote. It comes in the last paragraph and is from a former astronaut talking about a time on a mission that mission managers “shut down the urine collection system” on the space shuttle: “It was, he said, an annoyance, but ‘it’s one of those camping-trip kind of things you have to adjust to.’ Set against the larger risks and grandeur of space travel, he said, ‘this is small potatoes.’”

 

Not to argue with a former astronaut, but how is using plastic bags on a space shuttle like camping at all? Are there trees on the shuttle? Do you have to bring a whistle in case you stumble upon a bear? I guess that at the very least I’ve learned one thing: don’t camp with former astronauts.

 

Oh well, that’s enough discussion of bathroom-related topics for one blog. It’s time to drop some potatoes in the can…if you know what I am saying. What? I meant we have some potatoes that have expired and need to be thrown away. What?

May
22

Earthquake!!!

By | Random

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The other day I was surfing the net and happened to stumble across the article found at the following link: http://apnews.myway.com/article/20080521/D90Q9RQ81.html

(Random digression: can one really “stumble” while “surfing”? I submit that one cannot. The correct terminology for happening across something on the internet should be “wiped out”.) I will give you a moment to read the article…

Ok, now that you have comprehensively analyzed the article, let me tell you my first reaction: Oh…my…goodness! A team of 300 scientists?! Talk about a nerd convention!

All kidding aside, my second reaction was: cracked sewer pipes?! That sounds like the worst reason to visit a proctologist. Don’t they make inflatable pillows and creams for that type of thing?

Ok, now that ALL the kidding is aside, my third reaction was: I hate earthquakes. This article only reinforced the fear I have of California. I have no idea why anyone chooses to live there (no disrespect to my sister and brother-in-law who live there of course, they are just insane). Moving to California seems like moving to a house in Kansas with a tornado shelter. The fact that there is a tornado shelter means there is an excellent chance of a TORNADO!! That’s like ordering a meal at a restaurant that comes with a side of a barf bag. There are reasons that California’s building codes require specific earthquake mitigation features. That’s because there are deadly earthquakes! And if 300 scientists don’t convince you, I offer this nugget of proof. I recently asked my Magic 8 ball if California would experience a catastrophic earthquake within the next 50 years. Let me tell you, the answer was not encouraging…which in itself is bizarre since usually the answer is something like “Go for it”, or “ask again later.”

Unfortunately, nearly every vacation I have ever taken has been to California (not that California is not excellent, it’s just scary). As a matter of fact, my next vacation happens to be to California. The most time I have ever spent in California at one time has been a week. And let me tell you, the whole time I felt as if I was cheating death. In fact, I refer to everything tall in California as the (entity)-of-death. For example, the Ferris wheel at Disney’s California Adventure is definitely the Ferris-wheel-of-death as a large tremor would surely send the structure crashing into the artificial lake beside it. But, I would also consider the lemonade stand next to the wheel as the concession-stand-of-death as a large earthquake could send the structure crashing down upon me, were I standing next to it.

At least California has the ocean going for it though. In the event of an earthquake, there is a good chance of drowning in an earthquake-induced tsunami. I suppose the odds of me being severely injured in an earthquakeal tragedy are in my favor as I am only over there for one week a year on average. You’d never catch me living there though.

I live in Tucson Arizona because I happen to be a logical, conservative home-area chooser. And by logical I mean “I was”, and by conservative I mean “born here”. Here, the only natural danger is a known entity: heat. I find that danger is easy to mitigate: stay inside, drink tons of water, and buy extra deodorant. And, for those rare occasions that I venture into California, I will just have to find an aesthetic looking helmet that will be comfortable to wear for a week.

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