On Seperating the Man from the Muppet

With all the stuff in the news lately about Kevin Clash, I've been thinking about one of the things I hate about our media: sensationalism. I bet there are a more than a few people out there who are saying, "who is Kevin Clash?" That is a problem. The fact is, this sex scandal should be about the guilt or innocence of a man named Kevin Clash, yet when I Googled it (Yes, I actually did a little research on this one! What can I say? I'm growing as a writer.) what I saw most--in headlines--was ELMO SEX SCANDAL.

Seriously, Elmo was involved in a sex scandal? I thought he was a puppet, so how could he be involved in a sex scandal? He isn't even alive, and his character is under the age of 5. How can a preschool-aged puppet be involved in a sex scandal? And who was it with? If it was Zoe, I would view it as a little bit inappropriate for their ages, but hey, who hasn't played a little doctor when they were kids? (Well, besides me of course.) Prairie Dawn is a little bit older, so maybe that would be scandalous on the playground, but certainly not a headline-grabbing scandal. How about Gordon? Maria? That new Chris guy seems really nice, but you never know.

Could the scandal have been a scripted plot on Sesame Street? If it was scripted, boy are the writers getting edgy on the Street! I thought the True Blood parody they did was on the edge (and quite funny), but a sex scandal? Wow! Or maybe it was a very special episode of Sesame Street, in the vein of the old after-school specials I would watch when I was a kid. Well, then again, they have had very special episodes of sitcoms dealing with stuff like this (The Different Strokes episode when they go to the bicycle shop comes to mind.), but I have to ask, what is next? Drugs on the Street? Maybe drug dealers come to Abby's Flying Fairy School and start getting the kids to try "Pixie Dust." Next thing you know Abby gets arrested for selling her body to get money for drugs. I can see the headlines now: ABBY CADABBY IN PROSTITUTION SCANDAL. I can even see her picture (mug shot) looking a lot like Lindsay Lohan (not Freaky Friday Lindsay, but mid train wreck Lindsay).

I am getting a bit ridiculous here, but that is how ridiulous the media gets. I am not diminishing what happened, if the allegations are true. It seems that Mr. Clash has really brought the character of Elmo to life and after I watched his 2011 documentary Being Elmo it seems he has done a lot of good with the character. That does not excuse his behavior, however. An adult should know better. Even if the younger person is willing--and let's face it, a lot of 15 and16 year-olds think they are old enough to make these decisions--it is always the responsibility of the "adult" to say no.

When a child is in their mid-teenage years, they are just starting to learn about their sexuality. They are starting to devlop (in more ways than one) the skills they will use to take advantage of the opposite sex for years to come. I'm just kidding, but these are very formative years, sexually. I spent most of these years of my life with my nose buried in books and watching movies, which explains why I love porn so much, again, just kidding (winks). But seriously, I think this developmental stage is why you find teachers having inappropriate relationships in schools. When a young woman (or young man) is becoming aware of the opposite sex and the hormones start stirring, I can see where a teacher could catch this person's attention. Here is an older, mature, intelligent, adult who you see everyday. When you approach them they give you their attention and don't treat you like a child. They encourage you and make you feel good about yourself. (Well, some teachers, not all.) It would be easy to see where teacher crushes develop. It is the teacher's job to recognize and discourage these feelings, but some adults, when they aren't in a happy relationship, or just lonely, may not use their best judgement, and develop feelings in return. Then you get the TEACHER-STUDENT SEX SCANDAL.

Whether or not Mr. Clash did something wrong or inappropriate remains to be seen, but why drag poor Elmo in this? He did nothing. I understand that Clash has been the puppeteer and voice of Elmo for a long time but they are still two seperate entities. Elmo will go on. Do you really think that the worldwide marketing jugernaut that Elmo is could be stopped? Did Kermit the Frog die (and a dozen other characters) when Jim Henson passed? Yet I have seen articles saying ridiculous stuff like this. WILL ELMO SURVIVE THIS SEX SCANDAL? It is just the media trying to sensationalize the news once again.

The same thing happened many years to a guy named Paul Reubens. If the media was responsible and the headlines merely said something like ACTOR PAUL REUBENS ARRESTED FOR MASTURBATING IN PUBLIC, maybe Mr. Reubens would have done some more projects as his most memorable character Pee Wee Herman. But when the media feeding frenzy plasters PEE WEE ARRESTED FOR MASTURBATING IN PUBLIC, it is hard to find work as a beloved childrens character. (The headlines probably said indescent exposure, or public lewdness, but it all means the same thing.) People went crazy at the time. I remember seeing TV shows trying to tell parents the best way of explaining the whole situation to their kids. I have a good way: Don't let them watch the news! People could not seperate the man from the character. Happily, I see Mr. Reubens appear in shows and movies from time to time and there was even a recent Pee Wee Herman special so the shitty media did not kill his career, but they did knock it down for a while.

I guess all that I am trying to say is that the media bombarding the newspapers, Internet and television with Elmo headlines instead of Kevin Clash headlines, is a pretty crappy way to increase viewerage. The day thousands of Tickle Me Elmo owners sue Elmo for tickling back in inappropriate ways, is the day you can put use the ELMO SEX SCANDAL headline. I really hope that Mr. Clash is innocent, but judgin the more people that come forward and the fact that it sounds like hush money started being thrown about, it seems unlikely. But if you're going to do something that monumentally stupid, you deserve everything you get. As I stated above, whether these were all consensual relationships or not, Mr. Clash was the adult and knew the consequences of the lines he was crossing.

Elmo and all of Sesame Street will survive this scandal. Soon this will all be just a paragraph in the Sesame Street and Elmo Wikipedia pages. I am sure the next puppeteer and voice talent will do a great job and will be loved as much as Mr. Clash. So everyone can relax, be calm and enjoy the one thing that always comes from scandals like this: Comedians (and some bloggers) have a giant pile of material that they will certainly be taking advantage of. Inappropriate jokes have been flying about. YouTube has had numerous videos uploaded making fun of the way the scandal has been portrayed by the media. Even bloggers are throwing in their two cents, I mean, come on, it's the ELMO SEX SCANDAL... who wouldn't be able to find a joke in that statement? (see above)

On My Criminal Record

Not many of you know this about me, but I have a criminal record. I have a Class B Misdemeanor for Check Fraud. It sounds a lot more exciting than it actually is. Check Fraud makes it sound like I was in the basement with my secret check-making press, working for the criminal underground or something--but it was nothing like that. Let me tell you how it happened.

This was back in the dark days when I was still married to my first wife. We were living in a room off of her parents' house and were not exactly raking in the money. In fact, I think I was between jobs at the time, which was why we were living there. Her parents were not the Rockefellers either; they survived on my ex's father's disability check and whatever odd jobs he could pick up. They also supported their other three children who, I believe, at the time were still in school.

Because my ex-father-in-law received a monthly check, they were usually getting low on cash at the end of every month. He had an arrangement set up with the local hardware store that he would post-date a check and they would hold it for him and cash it once his disability check came in.

For whatever reason, one month my ex-father-in-law asked me if I would be willing to write a check for him. I don't know if they were out of checks or if they had already written one that month but for some reason, he needed one. He explained how the arrangement with the hardware store worked and guaranteed me that everything would be fine. The store would hold my check until he got his disability check, no worries. I explained that I only had about 15 dollars in the bank at the time, and would not even come close to covering the check. I didn't even have enough to cover the bounced check fees if they did put the check through. Again, he reassured me that there would not be a problem. I wrote the check and that was that.

We were running low on groceries at the time so I went up to the local grocery store and wrote a check for about twelve dollars and restocked--well, as much as purchasing twelve dollars in groceries can be called restocking. Well, as you all will be quite shocked to hear, the hardware store cashed my check early. Yes, I can hear the gasps of surprise from here. The hardware store check bounced and the bank charged me for the insufficient funds. This lowered my account low enough where the $12 check to the grocery store bounced as well.

I went to my ex-father-in-law and wanted to say "WHAT THE F.....???", but because I am waaaay to laid back, I merely said "What the heck?" He told me that a new employee at the hardware accidentally put the check through and he promised he would take care of it. I asked if this also applied to the grocery store and he said of course. After he had received his check, he said that he talked to all the people involved everything was all set. He even gave me money to cover the bounced check fees.

At this point, I should mention something important: The very same local grocery store that I had wrote the check to had been robbed shortly after the check had bounced. Their safe had been cleared out. I don't know if they ever caught the person who did it, but it was the talk of the town. There was even a debate in our household at the time whether or not my bounced check ended up stolen with the rest of the safe's contents. My ex-father-in-law said that he talked to the store owner and it was all taken care of. I should have been suspicious, because he never came right out and said that he paid the check, just that it was taken care of. I took him at his word and put it out of my mind.

Fast forward about six months. We were still living with my in-laws, but I had a job and had been working for a while. I came home from work and my wife said that a sheriff had stopped at the house and needed me to come up to the jail. They apparently needed to talk to me about something, so I headed up. I asked my wife if they said what it was about and she said no. It was only about a five-minute drive, so I didn't really have a lot of time to think about it, but I was very curious. What could the sheriff have wanted? I was utterly clueless.

I got to the jail, where the sheriff's office was located, and went to the front desk. I told the officer at the front desk who I was and that a sheriff had been by my house and said that I needed to come up. He explained that the check I had bounced at the grocery store had never been paid and that the owner of the store had sent my name to them. And that is when they began the process of arresting me. Finger printing, having me hold the little card up while I got my mug shot, etc. I was in complete shock. Me, arrested? I was sent to the Principal's office once in high school, but only because the substitute that we had that day was so flustered by my obnoxious classmates that when he saw me studying for a test that I had next period, and not doing the worksheet that we were supposed to be doing, he immediately told me to go. (Let me tell you, everyone in the office was shocked to see me.)

I didn't end up in a jail cell or anything; they told me when the court date was and sent me home. I guess someone who bounces 12 dollar checks isn't considered a big flight risk. I asked the officer on duty what I should do and he said that I should immediately go and pay the fees that I owed and just explain what happened when I went to court. So I went home and payed the fees the next day. The court day came and it was a simple thing: I told the judge what happened, pled guilty, and said that the fines were paid and that was that. The situation was resolved and I had a shiny Class B Misdemeanor for Check Fraud on my record.

The whole thing infuriated me on many different levels: First, my ex-father-in-law either lied to me, or just made a mistake about the bounced check being taken care of. I will take the higher ground and think the latter, but whichever was the case, the result was the same--I got screwed. Second, why did the grocery store never contact me? I mean, the town I lived in was not a very large town. I doubt they would have had to hire Dog the Bounty Hunter to track me down. I could have paid that check, and any fees that were associated with it, over a hundred times in the months that passed between the bouncing and my court date if I had known about them.

In the grand scheme of life, this was a pretty minor thing. On the many job applications I have filled out over the years, it was just one more thing I had to write in. Let me tell you, I never thought that I would ever have to list my misdemeanor on any applications I filled out. I always wondered if there was something I could have done differently to prevent me from having a criminal record. Should I have contacted a lawyer from the moment I was "arrested"? Could I have gotten a plea bargain? Have I been watching too much Law & Order? Could I have it taken care of now? Does it ever go away like points on your license? If you are reading this and you are a lawyer, feel free to let me know my options. Just to let you know, I now have more than 12 dollars in my bank account. I also have a house, two cars and a baby (not to mention my three kids with my first wife), so my account balance isn't much more than 12 dollars. Also, if you are charging for your council, can I pay with a check?

On How I got the Beetus, Part 2: Halloween Candy

Well, Halloween is finally over in our house, just in time for Thanksgiving. I don't consider Halloween to be over until the last piece of candy is gone--that is, the last piece of the candy that I want to eat--both from the leftover "to hand out" candy and the plundering of my daughter's stash. I love candy! I wish I had the self-control to avoid it at this time of year, primarily because of my type 2 diabetes, but I am powerless to resist its siren call.

We never seem to get many trick-or-treaters at our house, despite the fact that our neighborhood is crawling with the little candy-sucking fiends. I think they stay away because we don't really have an outdoor light, but it might be because everyone just hates me--just kidding! (I hope!) I would say I find the lack of candy-seeking traffic frustrating, but to be honest with you, it just means I get to eat more candy at the end of the day. This is why I always buy candy that I like.

My daughter is one and a half years old so this Halloween was her first real trick-or-treating experience. We took her around with my other three kids last year (their mom actually let me take them out), but I didn't collect any candy for her, since she was so young. I am not the type of parent who totes his child from house to house, collecting candy that my kid cannot eat. Unless you are going to put the candy in a food processor, I don't see how a child under the age of one is going to eat it. I always want to keep a jar of baby food handy on Halloween just in case we get some parents knocking on our doors trying to pull this candy-grabbing scam. Candy denied! Go to the store and buy some candy for yourselves, you cheapskates! I can see taking your baby to friends' or relatives' houses so they can see the baby in costume, but that is about it. If the child can't hold the bag, they shouldn't be trick or treating!

I could also go on a rant about kids with facial hair trick-or-treating or how much I hate kids who don't even bother dressing up, but that subject has been covered by many, many people. I did not want to write this post about the act of trick-or-treating. If you want to hear an awesome bit of comedy about trick-or-treating, give a listen to Greg Behrendt's routine on the subject. It's off his Uncool show and if you look up Cry Baby Spider Man on YouTube (or buy the DVD--I don't mind promoting it), I am sure you will find it and laugh.

Let's get back to the candy! As anyone who knows me can tell you, I love chocolate. My favorite candy bar used to be Three Musketeers, but I have grown more into a Snickers/Baby Ruth kind of guy. I like my candy with a bit more substance! The candy bar companies,however, don't seem that interested in me getting the amount of candy that I desire. They do have king-sized candy, but Halloween is all about bite-sized and fun-sized portions. At least the term "bite-size" is an accurate description of the product. The "fun-size" is a lie. There is nothing fun about a candy bar that small. It would be more accurate to call it "candy-tease-size".

I am one of the least-fussy people around when it comes to candy (or any food, for that matter.) I will eat anything that is either wholly chocolate or coated in chocolate: Milky Ways, Reese's Peanut Putter Cups, M&M's, straight Hershey's Chocolate Bars, Kit Kats, Nestle Crunch Bars, Snickers, and Almond Joys all are happily eaten and greatly enjoyed. Caramel! Ooooh goodness, I love caramel. Milk Duds, Sugar Daddy's and Babies (whatever happened to the Sugar Mama's anyway?) Peanuts... PEANUTS! Pay Day, Peanut M&M's, etc. YUUUM! I think my blood sugar shot up 200 points just from typing that.

There are some chocolatey bars that I am not super fond of, and these are the last ones I eat when the pile of candy is running out. Thankfully for my taste buds, but unfortunately for my medical condition, this is a very small list. I am sorry to say that I am not the biggest Butterfinger fan. Bart Simpson can have them--well, unless there are no other candies left. Whoppers also sit in the bucket to the very end. Something about malt balls just doesn't do it for me. Speaking of Whoppers, or about malt balls in general, does anyone ever actually just pop them in their mouth and chew away? I always break the little ball in half once it's in my mouth, and then let my saliva dissolve the malty center out so that only the chocolate remains. And then I eat the chocolate of course.

I am also not the biggest fan of the non-chocolate stuff, but I will eat it in a pinch. Starbursts, Skittles, Gummi Bears, Dots all are good. Lollipops don't really do it for me, especially Dum Dums. It will have to be a candy crisis of Armageddon proportions to eat Dum Dums. Tootsie Pops, however, I will eat. A lot of licks go into it (the Owl lies!) but you do end up with a bit of chocolate in the end. Hard candy in general has no business in Halloween. I have to be in a certain mood to eat hard candy. Butterscotches, Jolly Ranchers, generic red, green and purple candies have their place--just not in my Halloween basket. Some people complain about Mary Janes; please send them to my house if you don't want them. They are cheap, but all right in my book. When exactly did this post turn into a list of my favorite and least-favorite candies?

Regardless of my preferences in candy, I am not supposed to have any of it. Before, I would consume mass quantities of candy without a second thought. Even in a non-Halloween situation, if I wanted a candy bar, I would buy it and eat it. Now, every bit of candy I eat is accompanied by guilt. Or maybe I should say, the feeling that I am slowly killing myself. I certainly want to be around for a long time and see all my kids grow up and have kids of their own. I also want to spend as much time on this earth with my wife that I missed so much time with. But, dammit, candy is sooo goooood.

Don't even talk to me about sugar-free candy. Sure, it tastes fine, but it is much more expensive. And, not to get too graphic, but it is not nearly as kind to me coming out as it is going in. It is my preferred stool softener, in fact. I can get a bag of the sugar-free turtles and have the whole bag gone in about 10 minutes. It is like a lot of diabetic-friendly foods: yes, they are "better" for you, but if you eat 5 times more than you should, it is just as bad as if you ate the non-sugar free stuff. (Well, I could eat a bag of the sugar stuff in about 5 minutes also, so I guess it is better in the long run.)

My blood sugar levels are still a little bit high but they have been getting better. I am on a couple of medicines now and have not gotten to the point where I need insulin (though I see it coming someday, I just hope I can hold it off as long as possible). My brother recently got diagnosed with diabetes as well and he went in and had stomach surgery (not sure which one) and now does not have it. I don't know if this is an option for me or not, but I would not want to do it. I love to eat and it seems I should have enough self control to eat better. For the most part I do, but during times like Halloween (and soon Thanksgiving, and then Christmas, and then Easter...), my self control slips.

I know this post seems to ramble a bit, but it is just an example of how much I love candy. It has the power to distract me as much as any attractive woman I have ever seen (except for my beautiful wife, of course... he says, lying unsuccessfully...). I have found that the best way for me to resist candy's temptation is to keep it as far from me as possible. If I don't have candy in the house, then I can't eat it. (This is the same strategy I use for all not-so-good-for-diabetics foods). When Halloween rolls around, it becomes impossible to keep candy out of the house. You have to buy candy to give to all the little costumed beggars that come to your home. Candy is everywhere in the stores weeks before the holiday, and it is on sale. Let's not forget the candy your child brings home. You need to check it and make sure there are no razor blades or anything in it, right?

Once candy has penetrated the home it takes over my mind. I know it is in the house. I know what kind there is and which ones I want to eat. I think about it--obsess over it. And then, of course, I begin to consume it. I start having the same ridiculous debate I always have with myself when a candy influx situation has developed: Should I eat all the candy in two days and have my blood sugar spike for those two days or do I eat it slowly and prolong the higher levels for a week or two? I should do some research and find out which would be better, but again, I am a lazy researcher. As long as I don't slip into a coma, the first option seems plausible (and preferred).

On How Barack Obama Ruined My Annual Halloween Cthulhu Adventure

First off, the president didn't ruin the adventure, per se, but as I explain it to you, maybe you will understand. For the last two Halloweens I have written a scenario for one of my favorite table top RPGs (role playing games), Call of Cthulhu. I have mentioned my love of RPGs before, and I will explain it very briefly for those that have no idea what I am talking about. Table top RPGs (Dungeons and Dragons is probably the most recognizable title.) involve people getting together and creating characters who have skills, attributes and abilities. Then these characters go through a scenario/story/adventure. You can usually get adventures from the companies that put the games out, find them online or you can write a story for the players to adventure in. One person is in charge of running the story. This person describes what happens to the characters and controls all the action. When it comes to figuring out whether a player succeeds at something with an element of chance, dice are used. Nowadays, computer games will do all this for you, which is part of the reason why table top RPGs are a bit of a niche hobby.

One of my favorite games is called Call of Cthulhu and is based upon the writings of the horror/sci fi/macabre master, H.P. Lovecraft. This is a great game to run at Halloween time because you can write some wonderful scary tales using this system and world. Last year I wrote a story set in the Old West and this year I decided to go to the opposite end of the spectrum and set it in Outer Space. I wrote the story, designed maps, designed encounters, created villains and made characters for everyone. We gathered together the Saturday before Halloween to play through my story and have a good time. (This was one of the reasons I was absent from blogging for the last 4 weeks or so, as any free time I had was spent working on this.)

My friends picked which characters they most wanted to play and we began the tale I had written. The players were all crew and passengers of a cargo ship that was travelling to a remote research facility in deep space. En route, they received a distress call from a large transport ship carrying colonists bound for a distant lunar colony. Apparently they were struck by meteors and the engines were destroyed. My one friend decided he was going play the security chief. (He was thinking of Jayne from Firefly -- I was thinking more Warf from Star Trek) The captain of the players' ship was not available for anyone to play, primarily so I could boss them around if I needed to.

They went aboard the transport ship and were greeted by a nice group of colonists who informed them that they were welcome on board but their religion prohibited anyone from bringing weapons onto their ship. At this point, my friend who was playing the security chief refused to leave his gun behind. The captain (played by me) tried to convince him it would be okay, but he refused. "I" suggested that he smuggle a gun aboard, but he insisted that this was not acceptable, and said that he felt they would be giving up their tactical advantage if they were unarmed. He decided that the group should go back onto their ship and wait. As soon as people started dying on the transport ship, then they would the security chief and the others on board with their guns. The captain then ordered him to go aboard the ship, without his weapons, and the security chief drew a gun on him. That told me that this was a battle I was not going to win, so I was forced to leave the security chief on the cargo ship, and my friend had nothing to do with the adventure for the rest of the night.

Let me tell you a little about my friend, first of all. He is very pro-NRA. How pro-NRA you may ask yourself? He actually brought an NRA magazine to one of our other gaming sessions with an article that had parts highlighted. He wanted to point out some interesting facts to another friend who was not 100% against gun control (neither am I). Also, my gun-loving friend hates Barack Obama. How much does he hate him, you may ask yourself? He has made several comments of how he would not lose a wink of sleep if someone John Wilkes Boothed the president. He is convinced that Barack has some secret agenda to ruin America, or put us under control of the U.N. (or both). The U.N. wants the U.S. to get rid of all of our guns. Therefore, Obama wants to get rid of all our guns. (Well, I have been told it is more Hillary than Barry, but why split hairs?) I did not think that someone would be so impassioned over an issue like gun control that they would actually bring it into a fantasy world that I created. He seemed to be fine with not taking any part in the story I had written, though he did sit at the table and look up anti-Obama stuff on his laptop while we played.

This whole exchange just got me thinking about the upcoming election. (Which will be today if I get this out when I want, or yesterday if it takes an extra day.) The thing that has struck me most about this 2012 election is the passion that both camps seem to be exhibiting. I am in no way saying that people shouldn't be emotional about this election, as there are some very personal issues at stake. It just seems that people are taking it to a level that I have never seen before.

I have a couple of theories about why things have gotten so bad: First is Facebook. During the last presidential election season I was not even on Facebook, and this year I see such vitriol flying back and forth from both camps it makes me sad. Many Mitt supporters (and non-Mitt supporters that are against Obama) seem to just haaaaate Obama. They make it out like it is going to be the end of life as we know it if he is re-elected, saying he is evil, a socialist and comparing him to Hitler. It is out of control. Those who are against Mitt are all about the corporations winning and the top 1% -- the further screwing of the middle class. (Whatever happened to the Occupy Wall Street movement? It seems to have been replaced by those terrible lower class people taking advantage of us middle classers. Just a thought...) All of this has been hard to avoid as people have been plastering Facebook with memes, and quotes, endless "facts" about who lied about what and when, etc. People have been unfriending each other over their political posts, blocking feeds and getting in arguments over this election. Is social media to blame? Is this a matter of people who were always very passionate about their politics having a very public forum to mount their soapboxes? I don't know.

Another theory I had was that it is not just social media but the actual media, whipping people up in a frenzy. Again, I am not trying to minimize anyone's feelings on the issues that they feel are important, but the news is constantly showing the worst of people's political behavior. There are, and will always be, people on the extreme of both sides of the political camps. Unfortunately these extremist viewpoints tend to get more media attention than the groups that are closer to the center (or more reasonable). The media seems to want emotions to be high, because that drives ratings. Or maybe it is a conspiracy to keep the two party system going. If you keep people so scared about one or the other candidate being elected then they will be too scared to waste their vote. Choosing a third party candidate would be considered wasting a vote. Could all this be an effort to keep the status quo? Far fetched? You decide! (Am I sounding all conspiracy theory?)

The sad thing is that it seems every year that I hear more and more people say that they are unhappy with both candidates. To quote Abe Lincoln from the Obama vs. Romney Epic Rap Battle of History, "Why do we have to choose between the shiniest of two turds?" What choice do we have? How do we change things? Where do we start? If anyone has the answers, please share it with America. The only thing I can suggest is to start locally. Take an interest in your town or county elections. Maybe the locally-elected official of today could end up in Washington tomorrow. Maybe it will be someone who you know, trust and actually believe in. But then again, maybe they will just get caught up in the corruption that seems to be prevalent in our nation's capital. Is that being a bit cynical? Maybe, maybe not.

Once again I am drifting far off the target that I was aiming for. Then again, I really don't remember what I was trying to say in the first place. I guess that I just hate election season. Now that it is almost over, I can look forward to being able to watch real TV again, getting a lot less phone calls each night, and viewing Facebook without all the hate.

And if you are wondering who I am voting for, well, I am not voting (as of the time of this writing). I actually sent in the paperwork to register, but unfortunately it was on the day of the deadline, so I haven't received my card yet. There is a chance it will arrive tomorrow, but I am not counting on it. If I was going to vote, I was leaning toward Obama. I'll admit it. In terms of economy, I don't think it really matters who gets elected. I believe they both have about the same chance of pulling us out of the hole both parties sank us into. Mitt has said that he is against gay marriage and that affects several of my close friends directly, which is the reason I am leaning toward Obama. To me, that says a lot about his character, and that does mean something to me. I wasn't going to vote for Mitt, but if he does win, there is no guarantee that he will implement the things he says he will (or even be able to). Politicians tend to lie and pander to their voters and basically say whatever will get them the most votes. That is why so many candidates are accused of flip-flopping, as their true agendas come out once in office.

Who knows what will happen after the election? But if you need someone to vote for (that isn't Mitt or Obama), how about Peace and Freedom Candidate, Roseanne Barr? First of all, who couldn't use a little peace and freedom? Second, Roseanne's party wishes to legalize marijuana. I have never imbibed, but feel that it should be legal. Lastly, and most importantly, maybe she could get us all a deal on macadamia nuts!

On Sick Children

I am writing this post after briefly getting caught up on another project, which I will write a mini blog post about immediately after I finish this one up. I missed a couple of posts and have to talk about one of the reasons I missed the first week's post. My daughter came down with a case of Croup and it was very scary, especially since it was my first run-in with this particular virus. All I know was that my daughter started making this horrible sound every time she cried. It was a bark like a seal and scared the hell out of me (and my wife too - I shouldn't leave her out this.)

As disturbing as it was, we did not panic. From everything we have heard and read (and by we, I mean my wife did the reading, and then shared the info with me) in various child development books we suspected that it might be Croup. My wife looked it up online and my daughter had all of the symptoms. The site even had audio clips of various coughs and we got to listen. I wonder if we could select a horrible cough Pandora channel. Technology is an amazing thing!

The Croup cough we listened to on the Internet sounded exactly like what my daughter had. We looked at how to proceed and it said that there was nothing the doctors could do, so we decided to hold off. The website told us what to look for if things were taking a turn for the worse. I know one should not play doctor with you children (and not with adults either, unless it is fun doctor!) but we were very comfortable with our decision. Well, comfortable may be the wrong word, as we ended up having her sleep with us that night and as a result got very little sleep ourselves.

We had done everything the computer said: taking her out in the cold air, and bringing her into a steamy bathroom. It all worked. The cough went away the next day and the next night we had her sleep in her own room. We brought her in to sleep with us for a little bit, but after she repeatedly kicked and punched my wife in the throat in her sleep, we brought her back to her own bed. She started getting better and the cough went away, and we thought she was getting better. Then, she started getting a nasty cold. It sounded like she had a bad chest cold and we started to get concerned.

We decided to take her to the doctor's office to see what the pediatrician thought. The doctor looked her over and said.... everything was fine. This was a normal case of Croup. The cough and the bad cold that followed, were all part of the illness. My daughter did have the start of an ear infection but other than that, she was fine. The doctor gave us a prescription of amoxicillin, just in case the infection got worse and that was that.

I don't know if anyone reading this was waiting for me to come out with something horrible, like she had tuberculosis, pneumonia or one of the million other horrible diseases/illnesses that a child can contract, but she didn't. This has to be one of the hardest parts of being a parent - dealing with a sick child. It's not just dealing with the illness that is the hard thing, but also the constant fear that something terrible is going to happen to your child, or their health.

This fear begins the moment you become a parent. It seems to be more prevalent with new parents, but after having three children with my first wife (though all three were adopted, only the last one being a baby when we got him), I can assure you it never truly goes away. I had a ritual that I always referred to as the Death Check, with my infants. I cannot tell you how many times I looked in on my daughter when she was sleeping and thought she was dead. Babies can be soooo still when they sleep. I would walk up to the crib and scrutinize her chest to see if it was moving or, on a few occasions, nudged her to make sure she was still alive. I would like to say you become more relaxed when you get to the next child but I don't feel there was any real change, except for maybe the frequency of the Death Checks. I wonder if I got up to the Duggar level of children if I would even bother checking. (Well, at that level I would just send one of the other kids to periodically poke the baby.)

Nothing makes you feel more powerless as a parent than when your child is sick, especially when they are still a baby or a young toddler. Really, any child that is unable to tell you what is wrong, is like parental kryptonite. You can see they are in pain or uncomfortable but they can't tell you the source of their discomfort. Without knowing what is wrong, it is hard to figure out how to treat them. But then again, there is not a lot of medicine a child under 2 can take. All you can do is give them some Tylenol, keep them comfortable and if they get a bad fever or you can't get them to stop crying, take them to the hospital. Well, another thing you can do is worry, and that you do aplenty.

Children also become very clingy when they don't feel good. Don't get me wrong, I am not complaining, but it is hard to get things done around the house when you are holding on to a toddler. It warms your heart to know that your child just wants their mom or dad to make them feel better when they don't feel good, but it is really a challenge. You better have a book or the remote handy, because you have that cute little person stuck to you like a barnacle on the hull of a ship. God forbid you should try to put them down. Their little eyes fill with tears and they cry/scream and hold those itsy bitsy hands up to you to pick them up. Some kids even get their little hands opening and closing to make you feel even worse about putting them down in the first place. Though it is necessary at times to put your child down. I have gone to the bathroom holding my child, but it is awkward.

For some reason, most sick children don't like to eat and drink. (I have a little trouble believing that I ever had trouble eating - sick or not - as a child.) This just adds to your worry because you know that your child must eat and drink. The food helps them get better and the drink is crucial, especially when they have a fever. Dehydration is a very big concern, as any doctor will tell you. So you end up giving your child anything that they will eat or drink. You dish out Jello, pudding, freeze pops, yogurt, and junk food of all variety - whatever they will eat or drink. Food that you probably would hesitate to give them when they were well, you will happily cram down their throat just to get them to eat something. The same thing goes with liquids: chocolate milk, any kind of juice, Gatorade, whatever. I have, out of necessity on several occasions, used a medicine shooter to get the baby to drink. As a parent you do what you have to do.

And speaking of medicine shooters, how about medicine?! Giving your child medicine is so much fun. They usually are sooooo willing to receive the pink goo (well actually some kids seem to tolerate it it better than others). I feel like I am some sort of torturer when it is time to give my daughter her medicine. We practically have to restrain her and shoot it in bursts so she doesn't use her tongue to push it out. My daughter has VUR, which to sum up in three words or less means that some of her urine goes the wrong way and back into her kidneys (okay, that was more than three words, but you get the point). She gets a daily preventative antibiotic which she has been receiving since she was first diagnosed (mere days after getting her home from the hospital). Every night, for her entire life she has been getting this medicine, and every night, without fail, it is a fight. I feel like she feels that the fight is part of the process because after she gets the first little bit in her mouth she seems fine. I'm not saying she loves the taste of it, but she doesn't resist after the first shot is in there. Well that was up until about a week ago. Now she has found that she can spit out the medicine and does it every night. Boy I hope she stops this soon. Editor's note: we had the pharmacist add cotton candy flavoring to the new bottle of medicine we picked up yesterday. As gross as cotton candy-flavored medicine sounds to me, our daughter is now taking her medicine without too much of a fight.

Of course I blame daycare for all of her sicknesses (just kidding, but, not really...) That may be a little unfair, but it is just one of those things. Neither my wife nor I want her to go to daycare, but seeming neither of us have super high-paying jobs, it is a necessity. Don't get me wrong, the people at the daycare are wonderful and we love them dearly, but let's face it, any place where children are grouped together is a giant germ factory. Kids are not good at covering their mouths when they cough or sneeze. They do not go around at school using anti-bacterial hand lotion and such. To be fair, most adults aren't that great at stopping the spread of germs either, and I am sure I have brought some home from work with me. But the people at work probably got the germs from their kids, who got them from school or daycare. So yes, it is all daycare/school's fault for all illness in the world.

No matter whose fault it is or the source of the germs, it is never any fun when a child is sick - not only for the child but for the parents too. There is little chance of keeping your child (or yourself) germ-free, unless of course, you want to have a bubble boy or girl or if you are lucky enough to give birth to the child with the never get sick mutation. So eventually every parent will have to deal with a sick child. As tempting as it would be to spike their bottle or cup with benadryl, you have to tough it out, just like the child. But if someone can come up with a portable bubble suit, like in the movie Bubble Boy (starring Jake Gylenhal) let me know how much you want for it. I might be willing to give it a shot. And as a bit of payback, when your children get older, make sure you get your kids to take care of you when you get sick. Really play it up to, so the kids will get a slice of what you went through when they were young. The circle of sickness!

On Mice and Men

I like to follow up my deep, heartfelt posts with something silly and ridiculous, and I was handed the perfect topic the other morning. We have been having a bit of a mouse problem in our house and for the second time in my life I have critters living in my gas stove. The fact that the stupid things can even survive in there blows my mind. I assumed an oven would be too hot for habitation and now have this fantasy about the mice who live in there being hyper sensitive to the sound of the stove kicking on. As soon as the clicks start I can see them squeaking "RUUUNNNNN!" and scurrying out of the stove at full speed. (The voice is Arnold Schwarzenegger's and there are some big time action movie effects going on behind them.)

To clarify, the mice do not live "in" the oven. It is not like I have to take out their little furniture, (the match box bed, the thread spool table, etc.) before I turn on the oven. I believe they get nestled into the insulation that lines the stove and move throughout the different parts of the oven.

I know that mice, as portrayed in cartoons and such, are these cute little creatures who immigrate to America, write nasty letters to Santa Claus and run up clocks. They get adopted by Dr. House and Thelma and pilot steam boats, but the ones in my house must not have gotten the memo, because all they do is eat my food and poop all over the place. I moved the stove the other day, took out my shop vac and sucked up all the mice droppings both inside and out. Then I wiped down both areas and disinfected. The inside of the stove was truly disgusting, not only because of the amount of mouse poop in it, but also how close the poop was to the food we prepare for our meals.

I had been relying on my cat to be the primary mouse elimination device. We have found half-eaten mice on several occasions, so I was still optimistic that he could handle the job. This changed the other day when I had left some hot dogs on the stove after the kids had eaten. They were there maybe half an hour and I came out to find one hot dog in a burner hole, half eaten. They had actually climbed out of the stove and tried to make off with a hot dog. They had outstayed their welcome.

The first thing we did was to buy one of those sound generators that is supposed to discourage rodents from taking residence in your home. The directions said it should take 2-3 weeks before it would take effect. We have only had this device a week and a half, but I am very dubious about whether it is going to work, especially after last weekend when one of the mice decided to play Wac-A-Mouse with the cat. The cat was actually sitting on the sink on our kitchen island, so he couldn't have reached the stove unless he jumped the gap. Not impossible, but it would have been an incredible pounce... one for the ages. My wife and I were watching as the mouse stuck its head out of one burner hole, then ducked back in. Then his head would pop out of another hole, and then go back in. He did this for several minutes. It was as if the devious little creature knew it was out of range and decided to go on a full-on taunting campaign. The cat just watched and I hope he was just setting him up for a later kill. At this point it was mouse 1 and Cat 0. Also the sound generator should get a 0 as well seeming it was no more than 6 inches from where the mouse was making his appearances, so how could the sound be that annoying to his kind? Well, we'll see in a few weeks if it is effective.

Next, I decided to buy a trap. The trap I chose is a reflection of how much of a softee I am. I did not get a kill trap, I got one that would capture the little critters. We have a baby and a cat so I wasn't going to go the Decon route, and because of all the positive press they have received, I just don't want to see the little things dead. I had mentioned earlier that this is the second time I had mice in my stove, the other time being when I rented a house in Argyle.

The trap I used in Argyle also trapped mice and I initiated something I called the Mouse Urban Relocation Project. I would wake up in the morning and check the trap. If there was a mouse in it I would take it along to work with me to Glens Falls and let the mouse loose in the parking lot. It was like the tale of the City Mouse and the Country Mouse in reverse. (Or maybe it was more like Survivor.) I heard someone say that a mouse could find its way home from within 2 miles. Well try 15 miles you little bastards! Mwahahaha!

While in Argyle I also tried the glue traps. This was because the mouse problem had escalated into a rat problem. Thanks to the Black Death, rats have had a hard time spinning that public opinion to the positive. (Sorry, NIMH and Ratatouille.) Most movies and TV have not helped their cause, as rats are often the villains in many cartoons. I was more willing to take more lethal actions against them. The only thing I have to say about glue traps is the fact that the directions said there were three easy steps.

1. Peel the plastic off the trap
2. Place the trap in an area where the rodents travel.
3. (Once you have caught the varmint) Dispose of the Trap

Voila! Super easy! They forgot, as I was soon to find out, one of the most important steps.

2.5. Pick up the trap, which contains a rat that is screaming/squealing frantically and put the poor suffering creature out of its misery.

I will never buy glue traps again. One of the clinchers to this was when I was sitting on the couch in my old Argyle house and I saw something move in the kitchen. I jumped up and put a glue trap near the spot I thought they were coming in. Well I checked back in an hour or so and there were four baby rats stuck to the trap. Even though they were rats, they were just little babies... and all of them were squealing. I could hear Anthony Hopkins voice in my head "Tell me about the Rats, Clarice..." That was in the past so let's get back to what happened that made me write up this post in the first place.

I was getting ready to go to work the other morning when I heard squealing coming from the other room. Then my faithful cat came trotting out of the kitchen heading for the cat door to the porch. In his mouth was a mouse. Excellent work, my minion! I went to open the door for him -- it was the least I could do to reward him for his good work. As soon as I went to open the door, however, he let the mouse go. I quickly stepped on it. Don't worry, I did not have my shoes on yet and stepped lightly. All I could see of the mouse was its tail sticking out from under the arch of my socked foot.

I grabbed the tail and lifted him up. I looked him in his beady little eyes and pronounced his sentence. I felt a little like Judge Dredd (I had to get a plug in for Dredd, which seems to have flopped in the theaters, but I thought it was good.): Judge, jury and executioner. "Mouse, you have been found guilty of stealing food and pooping all over the place. Your sentence is death by cat." Despite my saying how I did not want harm the little creatures, at 4:30 am, I was without mercy. I looked at the cat and said, "You started this, you can finish it." I went out to the porch and let the mouse go in front of the cat. He swatted the mouse twice and then the mouse scurried behind a wicker basket that I use to hold old plastic grocery bags. I moved the basket and the mouse ran under a pile of plastic bags. Actually it was a bag that had five or six bags stuffed into it. Where was the cat? I moved the bags and the mouse was gone. I thought I saw something move in the bags and pinched off the top. I gave the cat a very disappointed look and told the mouse in the bag, "The governor called, your sentence has been changed to exile."

I ended up driving to work holding the bag closed. I drive a stick shift which made this even more of a challenge. Thankfully it only takes me 15 minutes to get to work. When I arrived, I took the bags and slowly started emptying them, one by one, looking for the mouse. I got to the last bag and no mouse. Either it was never in the bag or it got out while I was shifting and I did not see it. If it did get out, it will live like a king in my car. Month old cheese doodles, McDonald's residue and all sorts of other goodies are probably under the seats and on the floors.

A mouse was recently caught with the no kill trap that we had bought. Apparently they like kielbasa! We drove it to Super K Mart and let it loose in the back in a grassy area. Good luck in your new home, my little friend. If there are more of your kind in our kitchen, and all of our other preventative measures fail, maybe you will be getting some company soon. I prefer my mice on the big or little screen, at the pet store or in a laboratory. Hopefully this doesn't end up being a Disney movie (cartoon or live action) about a young mouse who gets separated from his family and struggles to beat the odds and finds his way home. Maybe it could be called "The Great Journey Home" or something. Or maybe it could be the "Mouse Hunger Games." (I can only hope it's the latter, and my mouse is from District 5 or elsewhere.) (I also just finished watching the Hunger Games as well.)

On Being the Little Fat Boy That Nobody Loved, Part 1

How I thought of myself through high school

Well, I had this post all written, but technology failed me and I am writing it all over again. Maybe it will go faster the second time. The title of this post is a reference to the movie One Crazy Summer starring John Cusak, Demi Moore, Bobcat Goldthwait, Curtis Armstrong (that would be Booger from Revenge of the Nerds or Ms. DiPesto's love interest on Moonlighting) and many other actors you may or may not have heard of. The guy who wrote/directed it is the same guy who did Better Off Dead. These are both wonderful examples of stupid 1980's comedies and I highly recommend them to anyone who hasn't seen them! "Two dollars!"

I am not going to go too much into the plot of One Crazy Summer, but there is a scene I love where Bobcat's character is trying to cheer up Booger's (sorry, he will always be Booger to me). It goes something like this....

Bobcat: "Let me tell you the story of the little fat boy that nobody loved. Everyone used to make fun of him and say he talked funny and he had a twin brother and they said he didn't look like him, but he wanted too."

Booger: "Egg, were you that little boy?"

Bobcat: "No, no, but I used to grab him and hit him and say 'Why are you so fat? Why are you so fat?'"

This is not a perfect transcript but I will post a link to the scene.

I used to do a poor Bobcat impression and would rattle off these lines to get a laugh from my peers in high school. I would often project myself as being the little fat boy that nobody loved, and as I said, I would get a laugh. The sad thing was though, I actually felt that way about myself--not the whole twin thing or the talking funny part, but the fat thing for sure.

Me in Kindergarten (Skinny)

I really don't know when my negative self image began. When I was in Kindergarten I was skinny, and I even remember asking a girl to be my girlfriend. She said no, but I remember not really caring. I was too young to even know what a "girlfriend" was. As I worked my way up the classes I started to swell up. (I was never Fat Albert fat, more John Belushi fat.) I am not sure when I was officially fat, or even remember when I became overweight, but it happened. To be honest with you, I really didn't care that much about it in the lower grades. It seems that as my interest in girls increased, so did my awareness of all my flaws. Coincidence perhaps? Doubtful!

I think my negative self awareness really started around 5th - 6th grade. Being overweight was just one of my "problems." First off, I was a nerd. This was back in the 80's when being a nerd was not as acceptable as it seems now. I had always loved sci-fi and fantasy books and was just starting to learn about a game called Dungeons and Dragons. These were things I loved, yet in junior high and beyond I felt the need to hide my interests. I did not want people to think I was a nerd (and by people, I primarily meant girls).

Another "problem" I had at the time was that I was very immature and naive for my age. I was immature in that I still liked action figures and toys that I was probably too old for. My parents did not have a ton of money so I always brown-bagged my lunch. I can remember that I really wanted a lunch box and asked my parents for one for several years. One year, they decided to buy me one. It was an NFL lunchbox--metal, like they should be, with all of the teams' helmets on it. AFC on one side, NFC on the other. I thought it was the best, and proudly carried it to school. One of the first times I brought, it a girl came up to me and said, "Aren't you too old to have a lunch box?" I was crushed. I don't think I brought my lunch box ever again. I was a freshman in college at the time, and it stung... just kidding. I can't remember what grade I was in but it is amazing how something so small can stick with you for so long. And more importantly, why did I care what she thought?

I said that I was also naive, and when it came to girls I was absolutely clueless. If I had been able to get a girlfriend back then, I wouldn't have known what to do with her. I am not talking about sex or anything like that, though I do not even remember when the birds and bees talk came (or even if I ever got one from my dad). I knew that there was hand holding involved, going on dates and some kissing maybe. This naivete lasted well into junior high, when the whole interest-in-sex thing started to kick in. I remember my friends talking about a B.J. in study hall once and I just pretended that I knew what they were talking about. I had no clue. Wasn't that the truck driver who had a monkey named Bear?

The last thing that really plagued me is that I was incredibly shy, especially around girls. I don't know if it was a result of all the other issues I had, or was just there inside of me all along. Anyone who knew me back then might not believe this, but it was true. I played sports and got along with everyone, and was even voted class clown my senior year, but most of it was just an act. I would hide behind my sense of humor, and act like an idiot to avoid talking directly to girls. I keep going back to the topic of women, because let's face it, in high school, that was one of my biggest concerns. Yes, I wanted to get good grades and get into a good college, but more importantly: I wanted a girlfriend. And that is where having such a negative self image did not help me.

I had mentioned that I was voted class clown, but to be honest with you, this did not help me on my quest for a girlfriend. The reason for this was that the main source of my comedy was myself. I unmercifully made fun of myself around anyone who would listen. In some ways I thought if I made fun of myself first, it would prevent others from doing it. It sounds like very messed up logic, but I think it is common with people who have confidence issues. I certainly could make people laugh, but after pointing out all of my flaws, it was sure difficult to approach girls and ask them out. Instead of using my sense of humor to attract girls, I basically used it to reinforce my horrible sense of self loathing. How can anyone love you if you can't love yourself? There is truth in this, but it still sounds like Oprah psycho-babble.

By the time I got into junior high I was acutely aware of what I considered my many flaws. I felt like I was huge and ugly and because I was so shy, I didn't even have a personality to fall back on. This was before I really established myself as a comedic virtuoso, so I really did not feel I had a lot to look forward to. I had no confidence in myself and that, I believe, is the one trait most women look for in a guy. This is why the cute girls always seem to end up with the "assholes" and not the chubby nerds. My theory was proved correct one day when I walked into a classroom where I had left my books and someone had written on one of my notebooks, in very girly handwriting "Don't be fat." I can remember that upsetting me so much that I almost cried at my desk. I shouldn't have cared, but I did.

As junior high turned into high school, I remained girlfriendless and my self image continued its steady downward spiral. There had to be a reason I did not have a girlfriend. I watched others date and get girlfriends and do all the things I wanted to do, yet I was still alone. I thought it was going to be like a TV show or a movie: I would let my friends know I liked a girl. My friends would tell their female friends. The female friends would tell the girl I liked that I liked her. It would reverse back through the chain that she liked me too, and I would ask her out, and TA-DA! I would have a girlfriend. This goes to show you how naive I was. I was also so afraid of being rejected that I never really made it known who I wanted to date. Little did anyone know, I would have dated just about anyone. There were a couple of girls I pined for more than any of the others, but really I would have been fine with any number of my female peers.

One of the girls I pined for most was a girl I rode the bus with for many years. She was popular, a cheerleader, and--as I thought at the time--the most beautiful girl in the school. Aaaah, to be young and in love/lust. I actually worked up enough courage to sit next to her on the bus a few times and fire up a conversation. Unfortunately, it turned into me trying to get her to feel sorry for me. I was hoping that sympathy could turn into love, or at least like. My ultimate goal was that she would know how I felt about her because I sat down and talked to her. This was a technique I also tried to employ all the way through college (I am not going into college in this post). Needless to say, it did not work. Although my attempts at dating her failed, she did write a very nice note to me in my yearbook at the end of senior year. I looked back at it and reread it many, many times, wondering what would have happened if I just showed a little confidence and asked her out.

After I lost weight

Junior year of high school arrived and something miraculous happened. Over the summer I grew about an inch or two and lost twenty pounds. I was down to 180 pounds and looking good! Well, that is what I should have thought, but I didn't. I still saw the fat, ugly kid that no girls were interested in. Nobody could convince me that I was thin. Well, maybe if I had a girlfriend, she could have convinced me, but alas, that was not in the cards. I felt fatter back then than I did at any point in my life. (even now).

I ended up taking a friend of my brother's to my junior prom. She was someone I thought was very cute and would have loved to have dated. My brother had basically pre-asked her if she would go with me and she had said yes. Had I asked a girl I was interested in, without my brother arranging it in advance, it might hav built my confidence (unless she turned me down). It took me a while but I did finally did ask her to go with me. She said yes, and we went. We had a good time, I believe. Well, we didn't exactly go to the prom alone together. A friend of mine was taking a friend of hers so we decided to double date. It gave me a way to avoid direct interactions with my date. Most of the experience has faded, but the one thing I remember was my date's friend asking me to do something different with my hands because the way I was holding her during a slow dance was gradually pulling her dress down. I had never really danced before. I went to all of the school dances, but I just sat back in a corner with my friends complaining about the music, wishing someone would come ask me to dance. (If the music was so bad, why did I go to all the dances? That's where the girls were!)

I recall nothing about the after-prom party (and seeming I did not drink then or now, I have nothing to blame this on except my age), not even if my date went with me. I spent most of the party hanging out with my friends, fantasizing about prom party movies and hoping that some magic moment would materialize where the girl I had pined for all of this time confessed she loved me and we would sneak off somewhere shed our virginities. It did not happen--in fact, I don't even think I talked to a girl that night. Despite the lack of anything significant happening between me and my prom date, I figured the seeds of a relationship had been planted and perhaps something might blossom out of it. Unfortunately what happened that summer would scar me forever! (Okay, that was a little melodramatic, but read on, and you will see what I am talking about.)

My brother and his friend said that they were going to go camping up in Lake George that summer and that the girl I took to the prom was going to be at the campgrounds as well. I asked if I could go with them and they agreed. I was on cloud nine! I fantasized about asking her out, going out on the town, hand in hand, chilling together at the beach and making out at the campsite. My libido was on overdrive. The time came to go to the campground; she was there and things were going well. I got to hang out with her -- not alone, but still, I was trying to build up the courage to ask her out. Then one day she came over and asked if I would like to go down to the beach with her. I could have died right then. I was convinced, that after so many years of nobody showing any interest in me, here was a beautiful girl that liked me. She said yes to going to the prom with me, after all. Maybe she actually liked me and was not just doing a favor for my brother. (I had convinced myself that was the only reason she agreed to go to the prom with me.)

We went to the beach and lied there for a couple of hours. I tried to say a lot of things but my shyness was shutting my mouth down. I just stared at her, with my eyes 98% closed so she wouldn't see me watching her. Eventually it was time to go, and I hadn't asked her, but I was almost sure she would say yes when I did. Maybe when we got back to the campsite we would just sit and talk for a while, then I would ask. But as we were walking back she told me that she had to stop somewhere on the way back. Well, we ended up stopping at a store, where her boyfriend was waiting for her. I was crushed! On the way back to the campsite, I walked a little ahead of them to let them have some space, but really it was just so they wouldn't see the tears that were threatening to flood out of my eyes (yes, I am a cryer). To add salt in the wound, I overheard the two of them talking and her saying "You aren't jealous of HIM are you?" I don't know if she emphasized the "him" or not but my brain put it there. We got back to the camp, I climbed into my bed, put in the new cassette tape either I or my brother had just bought (Van Halen's 51/50), cranked it up and cried into my pillow.

To add a little more salt to the wound, I got fired up that evening, decided I was going to go wander the streets of Lake George, meet a cute girl, have my first kiss and have an awesome end of the trip. I would do anything that would help me forget all about the humiliation I just suffered. I showered, got dressed and headed out. Well I hadn't even got to the main street when I passed a group of young guys and girls. They looked at me and started laughing amongst themselves. I have never been a fashion plate, I will admit to that, and that night was no exception. I had and have no style, preferring comfortable, affordable clothes to expensive fashion. Well, after I passed the group and heard a couple of snide comments, I turned around and went back to the camp. I spent the night with Sammy Hagar (I would have preferred David Lee Roth, but, that ship had sailed, unfortunately.) Even typing this brings back all sorts of emotions. The thought of trying to win my prom date from her current boyfriend never crossed my mind. I was convinced that she asked me to the beach just because she took pity on me or maybe my brother had asked her to be nice to me. All I know is that, at the time, I was devestated, and my self confidence was even further in the hole.

Well, senior year of high school came and I had a whole school year to make a love connection. Unfortunately, there were no operators standing by. Senior year came and went, and still no girlfriend. I think I had just about given up by then. I figured if no one had shown any interest up until then, I must be unlovable. I still had a mega-crush on the one cheerleader who rode my bus and I kept trying to say something, but couldn't. Eventually I decided to put all of my hopes into college. Well there were a couple of almost girlfriends but I am realizing I am drifting away from what I wanted to talk about in the first place.

What I am trying to say, is that having a negative self image is a terrible thing. It is amazing how skewed one's view of one's self can be. You can convince yourself of almost anything, whether it is true or not. I was utterly convinced that I was ugly, fat and worthless when I was younger and to some degree, I feel some of those feelings still. It affected all the relationships I had, and affects the one I am in now. The big difference between then and now is that I have someone in my life who makes me feel that I actually am worth something. Some of the old insecurities creep in from time to time but overall, I have come a long way. Someday I will shed all of my insecurities and see myself as my wife sees me. Maybe then I can work up my self confidence, track down those girls who I had a crush on in high school and see if they would like to hook up.... just kidding!

On Siegfried, Roy and Me

The other weekend my daughter got invited to her first non-family birthday party. (She is such a social butterfly for only being a year and a half.) The three of us drove down to the party, which was a fairly long drive, but made even longer because I have not broken down and bought a GPS system yet. My wife looked up the directions on Trip Finder or some site like that and I wrote them down. My wife drove, I navigated, and we were able to find the party without too much trouble. Well there was one little hiccup but I will discuss that a bit later.

I don't know about you, but sometimes, I miss maps. Do you remember maps? They were wonderful.  I never felt  more like a true navigator than when I held an actual map in my hand. You could follow your progress, plan alternate routes and spend a good deal of time trying to fold the damn things. GPS technology is nice, but unless you know how it works (I usually don't take the time to learn all of the special functions of new gadgets I buy. Sad, I know.) you are just basically listening to a voice tell you where and when to turn. The map on the screen is not very large (even if you blow it up) and just not as simple as having one in your hand. And lets not forget my least favorite word to come out of a GPS system: "Recalculating."

The minor problem we ran into on our way to the party was the fact that the directions we looked up must have been based on the shortest distance, not the quickest or easiest way to get to our destination. If I had been paying a little more attention, I would have caught this fact. Unfortunately I discovered it "en route" and it was too late to make any adjustments. The directions said to get off at exit 14 of the NYS Northway and take a right. If I had thought about it, I would have noted that taking a right would bring us through the city of Saratoga, right near the race track, on the last weekend of the horse racing season. Needless to say, we got caught up in some terrible traffic and arrived 10-15 minutes late.

I do like having a GPS system, don't get me wrong. I will be getting one as soon as I accumulate enough money (and have nothing more important to buy) to purchase one. I have used my sister's on several occasions and thought I would share the two things I love the most about using a GPS system. First, there is the fact that you can change the voice that tells you where to go. I have been told where to go several times in my life; it is nice to have control of the voice that tells you. I love to use the female Australian voice for some reason. "G'day mate, take a left in 500 feet, and throw another shrimp on the barbie." Ok, it doesn't say stuff like that, but it would be pretty funny if it did. What if they had bad foreign stereotype voices as a selection? That would be wrong, but funny. A little old Chinese voice would say, "Most honorable driver. Take reft turn in 500 feet." Then a gong sounds or that little classic Chinese ditty they play in movies and TV shows goes off after every direction update.

The other thing I love is the estimated time of arrival. That is like crack to me. I watch that more than the road sometimes. Whatever the time of arrival is when we first set out becomes the time to beat, like a world record in the Olympics. I try to beat the time by as much as possible. When we had the GPS unit with us on a long trip my wife constantly heard me say things like "Shoot, I am 5 minutes behind, I can make that up." or "Okay, were half an hour ahead, let's hit the rest stop and make it quick. I don't want to lose my lead." I start treating rest stops like pit stops in NASCAR, watching the clock, and rushing people along. Pathetic. It may seem ridiculous at times, but it is things like this that help a long trip go by quicker.

But anyway, now that I went off on a long tangent about GPS vs. maps, lets get back to my original topic. We arrived at the party and it took a little bit for my daughter to warm up and get used to all the strange adults and kids. Not that I am saying they were strange, just new to her (and me for that matter, as the party was for the son of my wife's friend that she knew in Seattle). Once she got settled in and comfortable, she turned on the charm and was having a great time. That is when I started to get my Siegfried and Roy on. No, I did not have her mauled by a tiger. (Yes, anyone who knows me saw a tasteless joke like this coming. Well it probably was not tasteless for the tiger, I'm sure Roy was delicious! Okay, I apologize for that one too.) It was time to show off all her tricks.

First we had to pull out my favorite, her Count von Count impression. Yes, she has one! Whenever she sees the count or we set her up with some Count style counting, she will provide her Eeh Eeh Eeh. Then it was on to her Old MacDonald. If you sing Old MacDonald, she will provide the e i e i o. She sings Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. Though most of the time she uses "dada" for all of the words but it almost sounds like she says "up above" at the appropriate part. The ABC song is coming along and she does hit some of the letters at the right time (the rest of the letters are all "da"). She loves to sing, and it is always amazing how well she gets the melodies correct for the songs she sings. She dances and loves to stack things. She uses just about any object as a telephone and answers it with a "Hewwo?" She is adorable. (And I am biased!)

Here is Gabby stacking blocks on the cat.

I ran her through her routine and she did great. I often have trouble getting her to perform in front of other people. When we get stopped by people in the store and they talk to her she gets all shy and won't do anything. Then I feel like an idiot. "Really, she can say Hi and Bye. She even gives a little queen wave." I tell them and of course she does it when they are out of sight. But at the party she had enough time to get comfortable, so she was on fire. People commented how cute she was and how smart she was. I was so proud. The party ended and we headed home. Now that I knew where we were, I took a much easier and direct route home.

After we were home for a while I began to reflect on the party. I had to ask myself a question: Why do we as parents feel the need to show off what our children can do? I am not the only one who does this, as other people have done the same thing to me many times. I do not mean to imply that exhibiting your child's skills is necessarily a negative thing, but what is it in our nature that makes us do it?

It is wonderful to be proud of your child, no matter what their age, and to want others to see how special they are. I sometimes question the motivations for showing off a child's skills to others, however. (This includes my motivations as well.) Children, particularly babies, don't generally care what others think about them; they are more excited by the reaction they get for successfully performing their tricks. Therefore, if you are treating your child like a seal at Seaworld because you love them and want others to see how proud you are of them that they can do something that you think is amazing, then you are doing it for the right reasons.

I don't think this is the motivation for too many parents, however. Some people seem to think that life is a competition and other children and adults are their opponents. It's the reason why we have shows like Toddlers &Tiaras. (I have never watched the show, and never will, because just from the trailers and photos I've seen, I would probably break my TV as I tried to punch the parents through the screen.) Some parents seem to get off on showing how much better their child is than yours and are quick to take all the credit for their child's accomplishments. They are the parents who are telling you how they are prepping their child for Harvard at age 2 because they are soooo brilliant. Thankfully, most of the people I know share my views on the subject.

I am not sitting on the floor with a Count doll three hours a day practicing and pushing her to perfect her impression. I do not have a box of cookies that I am using to teach her to do a Ted Knight laugh. I am not watching the Dog Whisperer and jotting down techniques that Cesar is using, to try on my daughter. I just enjoy watching her develop, learn and experience new things. I love watching her figure things out and discover new talents. Right now she is trying to figure out talking and it is amazing. You know she is trying to say something important, but she looks right at you and a stream of gibberish pours from her mouth.

Though I love the fact that she can do all of these amazing things, (well, amazing to me, because it seems like just yesterday she wasn't even crawling or saying a word), that is as far as it goes. I am not going to say she is the smartest kid ever or start making plans for her to go to Juliard. I will not compare her to other kids and criticize her or others for what they can or cannot do. Though you have to admit, a Count Von Count impression is pretty cool! Can your kid do one? I didn't think so! Gabby 1, Your kid 0! We win, woohooo!

On Door to Door Salesmen

I may lose some of you with this post but I had to bring up something that has been bothering me this summer. (When I say lose, I mean that some of you will read this post and say "OMG, me too!" and others will be scratching your heads saying "Uuh, What is he talking about?") Our home and, I suspect, houses throughout neighborhoods everywhere, have been over run by annoying pests this year. No, not mosquitoes, black flies or children. (Though that last one would have been a good guess, especially if you have kept up on my blog.) I am talking about door to door salesmen.

"Door to door salesmen?" I hear you asking yourself. "I thought that they didn't exist anymore." With the exception of the Girl Scouts (or the cookie mafia as my wife refers to them), I always assumed that they had gone extinct as well, like the dodo bird or honest politicians ('tis the season for political jabs). I can't ever remember having a vacuum cleaner or encyclopedia salesman show up at the door plying their wares. Jehovah's Witnesses and Mormons have knocked at the door, and I guess they were trying to sell me salvation, but they were not "salesmen" in the strictest sense.

I think telemarketing has gone a long way toward minimizing this particular sales technique. Why pay someone to wander through the neighborhood when you can strap a phone to an employee in an office (usually in India) and make them sell? Not only that, but with the age we live in now, how likely is it that people are going to let strangers into their house? And this works in the opposite direction, as well. I wonder how much insurance the company would have to pay for having their employees going into a stranger's home? There are a lot of crazy people out there! Apparently the trend is coming back, though... well, kind of. I am talking about a particular type of sales technique that has been used on me at least six times so far this summer.

Let me describe the scene to you. You are sitting comfortably in your home, watching a rerun of The Big Bang Theory (I love this show, but I swear it is on everytime I turn on TBS. In fact, my wife just turned on TBS as a test, and indeed there it was.) when you hear a knock at the door (or hear a doorbell ring if you live in a fancy house.... well fancier than mine, anyway). You go to answer the door, look out on your stoop and see one or two people standing there. No, they are not Jehovah's Witnesses or Mormons; they have on a uniform and are usually holding a clipboard. Nothing says you have an important job to do like a clipboard. Religious groups are usually armed with pamphlets or bibles.

One of the people looks at you and asks "Do you take care of the utility bills in the house?" If you say yes, they will respond with something like "I need to take a look at page 2 of your utility bill to make sure you have selected an energy supplier and to make sure that you are receiving the discounted rate." They never say they are with the electric company but they are very insistent about seeing that bill. The first time this happened to me and before I knew what it was about, I tried to blow the guys off by saying that I didn't keep a paper copy of the bill. I told them that it was kept electronically online. They asked me to get on my computer and pull the information up so they could check it out. They were willing to wait as long as it took, that was how important it was. Just to get rid of them I lied and said I did not have a computer at home. They said they would come back another day and suggested I print out a copy from wherever I had computer access and have it ready. They did come back a few days later, but I made up another excuse.

The sad thing is that there have been at least four different companies who have come to my house to get me to change my energy supplier. According to the pitch, unless I choose a service provider, our utility company (National Grid, in my case) will just willy-nilly pick an energy supplier at random. Our utility company doesn't care if we are getting the cheapest rate, but their company does. My curiosity got the better of me one day -- especially around the time that the second company showed up at my door with the same pitch, so I let one of them in.

The guy hit me with the sales pitch right away. I pulled the bill up on the laptop and had him look it over. He showed me where on the bill it showed how much I was being charged for the fuel delivery (or whatever it was). Then he told me how much they were offering the service for. It was indeed cheaper. The amount of savings was barely a penny. It was based on the amount of energy you used, and I did some quick calculations in my head and I would be saving a whopping 2-3 dollars per bill. It hardly seemed worth the effort these salesmen were putting in and I wondered how much the companies would make off of me. But still, 2-3 dollars off my utility bill was enough for me to sign up (yes, I am that cheap).

Well since I had chosen an energy supplier, I thought I would be all in the clear. I thought wrong. Next time someone showed up at the door I said with a smile on my face: "Sorry, I already went with another company." "Oh no," the guy said to me. "That's okay, we can fix this." The smile left my face. He went on to tell me that they were the only energy supplier that had permission to solicit in our town. According to him I should have called the cops on whoever was trying to get me to switch suppliers. He produced the shabbiest looking form I had ever seen, showed it to me and said it was a permit from the town. I think it said permit on top it and town of Hudson Falls. All the lines of the "form" were hand written and it did not look even a little bit legitimate. It must have been real because it seems like the salesman could get in a lot of trouble if they were called on this and it was proven false. (Maybe Hudson Falls just has terrible forms?) The energy salesman said that all I needed to do was fill out one of their applications and they would take care of the rest. They would get me out of the awful contract that I had mistakenly signed. I just couldn't take it anymore so I told them that it was all right, and that I was actually looking forward to paying more. They begrudgingly left with a bit of an attitude.

I do not mind somebody trying to sell me something. I did telemarketing for almost two years so I understand the game. The guys coming to the house were working off a script that they had been trained to use. It just happens to be a shitty script. The whole thing was such a hard sell that it pissed me off. The fact that these sales guys all insisted that they had to see my energy bill was ridiculous. They HAD to see page two of the bill. They NEEDED to confirm who my energy supplier was. No, they did not need any of these things. This approach is the one that probably had been tested and proven most successful by the people who come up with these sales scripts. The unsuspecting homeowner assumes that the salesmen are there on behalf of National Grid, or whoever their actually utility provider is and let them in. The salesmen go through their spiel, and sign the person up.

I'm not saying that these are scams, and I'm not saying they are not. I looked up the companies on the internet and there were scam indicators all over the place. People were accusing them of all sorts of things, but the biggest thing was the fact that they were so pushy. Others claimed that the savings only lasted for a brief time and that they had trouble contacting people to cancel. Some people even said that they were charged a fee to cancel the service. The guy I talked to addressed all of these issues and that is why I agreed to sign with them. Whether I get proven a sucker remains to be seen, but I will surely let you know if that happens.

As the summer has progressed my wife has suggested that we place a no solicitors sign on the door. I was oppossed to it, because these salesmen have been so pushy I am sure they would just ignore it. My suggestion was to hang a sign in the front yard that says "No, you do not need to see page 2 of my electric bill, now go away." Though that would have said it very succinctly, it certainly lacks style. I am all about style! So to spruce it up a bit, I could steal a little bit from Ben Franklin in his Epic Rap Battle of History versus Billy Mays and say something like "If you ask to see page 2 of my electric bill then call me Arthur Miller, son, because it will be Death of a Salesman." All right that may be a bit over the top, but I bet it would keep those energy pushers away.