On Going to the Drive-Ins

Summer is here... well, almost, and Drive-In season is upon us again. First of all, I don't know if I have mentioned it before but I am really cheap (and I am not referring to my street value). Well, maybe the proper term would be frugal. Secondly, I love going to the movies. Unfortunately, with the current price of the average movie ticket, these two characteristics would seem to work against each other, especially if you throw a wife and four kids into the mix. That is where the Drive-Ins come in and why I love them so much.

There is nowhere a frugal person like me can find a better deal for seeing new movies than the Drive-Ins. Indoor theater prices are getting to the point that I wouldn't even consider taking the family out, unless there were lottery winnings involved (or perhaps a second mortgage). Few things in life get cheaper over time and this is true for the Drive-Ins. My mother tells me of a time when you paid $5 a car. This isn't hard to believe. How many people could you transport when the wheels were massive stones and you propelled the car by putting your feet through the floor and running (just kidding)?

Despite the fact that tickets have gone up to $9 dollars per adult this year it is still a great bargain. It is as good as any matinee price that you would currently pay at the indoor theater. And you get to see two new releases. That's $4.50 a movie, in case anyone's math skills were failing them. Where else can you see a new movie for $4.50, without illegally downloading it (and you don't have to worry about people standing up in the middle of the bootleg, or the subtitles being in German)?

If you thought the nine dollar price was great, you haven't even heard the best part. Kids under the age of 12 only pay $4, and those under 3 are free! This is good because my younger kids never stay awake for the second movie (and sometimes don't even make it through the first movie) and I would be really annoyed if I had paid full price. The unfortunate side effect of this, however, is that it has made me a bit dishonest. I say this primarily because my daughter has been under 12 years old for the last 3 years and I am starting to feel guilty about having her crouch down a little bit to seem shorter. (Yes, I have made my children accomplices. I am a horrible parent... that saves $4.50 a visit! Cha Ching!)

I always leave very early when I head out to the theater -- earlier than I really need to. I have never arrived before the gates were open, but usually I am one of the first dozen cars to arrive. The first reason that I leave so early is that I love getting a good spot right up front. If you arrive late then you end up either off way to the side or in a middle spot, surrounded by people. This can be either good, or very, very bad, depending on the people. Another reason for arriving early and being up front is that it allows me to sit back and relax while the kids hop out and run amok with all the other kids that come to the movies. Up front, right under the giant screen is a strip where all the kids gather. Soccer balls, Frisbees, footballs and baseballs all are brought out and the kids all play together and have a great time. It's awesome to watch. It is a mega-play date and the kids seem to enjoy this as much as the movies themselves.

To go back to the point where I said that I was cheap, I also love the Drive-Ins over the indoor theater because you can bring your own refreshments. There are no limitations on what you bring in your car (at least at our Drive-Ins) so you are not forced to pay the outrageous prices for food and drink that they charge at the snack bar. I usually fire up the air popper before we leave, filling up a couple of bags with popcorn, grab some soda and candy from Walmart or somewhere as cheap, and roll through the gates well-stocked. It is a cheapskate's--I mean, a frugal person's paradise! I sometimes stop and get a pizza or KFC before we arrive and actually eat dinner at the Drive-Ins as well. It's all part of the experience.

Despite everything I love about the Drive-Ins, there are a few things that I don't. First is the weather. In an indoor theater, you always know that you're going to be in a nice temperature controlled room... not at the Drive-Ins. It can be hot, it can be cold, it can rain -- I even remember having to leave early once when I was a kid because fog rolled in and you couldn't see the screen. Apparently, mother nature isn't always a movie fan (obviously she saw the Twilight movies).

Also, because the movie is shown outside, you have to wait until it is dark enough. Often they start it a little before ideal darkness levels, but when you've got two movies to get in and it doesn't actually get dark before 9:00pm, sometimes you need to start before conditions are optimal. Then again, people like to show their impatience by honking their horns, and will do it if they feel it is dark enough, and the movie hasn't started. (I hate the car honkers.) Though our local Drive-In just got new projectors so it has been pretty nice so far.

One of the things that I would have complained about most in the past was the sound system at the Drive-Ins. I hated it so much that I would have gone to the indoor theater if I really wanted to see a film. Those crappy little speakers that you stuck to your car window were terrible. The sound that they created sucked and that is assuming that they even worked in the first place. You quickly learned that the first thing that you did when you pulled into a spot was to test the speaker. Most of the time the speakers were fine but sometimes they would have a short in them, that crackled every time you moved them. This meant every time you opened the door, to let the kids in and out, the sound would go out. I won't even go into the fact that many people have driven away with the speaker still in the window (just for the record, I never did). This is probably why some of them don't work.

But now the sound system for the Drive-Ins is on a radio channel which means the sound goes through your cars speakers. So in many ways, I prefer the sound at the Drive-Ins. Indoor theater sound is waaaaaay too loud, most of the time. Whenever there is an explosion, you feel like your ears are going to bleed. In the car, the volume is always just right! The only problem with this system is the people who leave their car on too long, or have things on other than the radio and end up with a dead battery at the end of the night. I have yet to do this, by the way (knock on wood).

The biggest problem I have with the Drive-Ins is the bugs. Mosquitoes  black flies, other people's children -- these pests descend on you and yours unmercifully in the heat of summer. If you don't bring your bug spray, you are not in for a delightful evening. Nothing is more annoying than the buzz of bugs in your ears while your trying to enjoy a movie. Then there are the bites and the constant smacking of yourself, trying to kill the little beasts, that distract from the film. If it is cool enough the bugs don't come out and all is well, but if it is really muggy out then the bugs are swarming and it is too hot to leave the windows open. But then again, if it is too cool the windows fog up when they're shut. You just can't win sometimes.

There are other minor annoyances at the Drive-Ins, just like in any theater. The indoor theater has the chit-chatters; Drive-Ins have the people who turn their lights on during the show. Despite the differences, it usually boils down to other people being inconsiderate and this can happen anywhere. I do have to say that the Drive-Ins do have some pretty unique situations. I had a skunk walk up to me and sniff my feet when I was younger and sitting outside, something that I doubt happens in regular theaters.

Unfortunately, Drive-Ins are slowly disappearing across the country. It is sad, especially with all the fantastic memories I have accumulated over the years. From the years of going with my parents to the present where I am bringing my kids. I can only hope that Drive-Ins will be around long enough for my kids to bring their kids, or for me to bring them. Not that I am in any rush to be a grandparent.

I have seen many movies throughout the years at the Drive-Ins -- some awesome, some not so much. I have only ever left early once in my Drive-In theater history because a movie was just so bad, and I think that was more because my wife-at-the time insisted. (I believe the film was Mafia!, starring Jay Mohr, so I really can't fault her too much for that.) That to me is truly the best thing about the Drive-Ins, the fact that if one of the two movies is an absolute piece of shit, you can justify the money you paid with creative math. You can say that you paid full price to see the good movie, and got to see the crappy one for free. This may seem stupid to most people, but to those who are cheap like me, this fuzzy math helps.

P.S. I just have to mention, because of the nature of this blog, that our local Drive-In theater has the second most disgusting bathroom I have ever been in. Number one goes to the bar in New Jersey I went to for my brothers bachelor party. I must confess that first, I have not been in many bars in my life, so the concept of a pee troth was a little jarring. Second was the fact that my time in there was spent watching my brother lean against the stall and projectile vomit.

On Vacations and Hotels

My first vacation of the year has come and gone and all I can say is, where the hell did that week go? This, I believe, is a very common sentiment, shared by just about everyone who has ever taken a vacation. You spend weeks looking forward to the day when you are going to leave, then it comes, and in a blink you're back home. My family's journey brought us to the wonderful state of Rhode Island. I would specify Providence, but do I really need to? I don't think Rhode Island is large enough to have more than one city. Just kidding. I am not going to sit here and make fun of the state because it is small--though I did notice, when I saw the sign that said "Now Leaving Rhode Island" the d of "Island" was actually on the "Welcome to Massachusetts" sign. Okay, no more RI jokes.

We hopped into the car Monday afternoon and travelled 3-4 hours down to Coventry, RI, to stay at the wonderful Hampton Inn. The appeal of this particular hotel was a pool, proximity to the places we wanted to go, the price and a free warm breakfast.

I love hotels (probably because I travel so rarely). Even though every hotel room I have ever been in has been about the same, I am always excited to slide that pass key and walk in for the first time. The hotel room we had on our vacation held no surprises. There was the giant bed (neatly made), the desk with the lamp and internet/phone cables and the dresser with the large TV on it. The bed had a nice little lap desk thingy that had the Showtime program guide and the traditional welcome to the Hampton Inn paper.

As I did my usual exploration, just in case there was a secret Jacuzzi or something equally awesome hidden in the room (hey, you never know), I explored the closet and the bathroom. The closet, the door of which was a large mirror, had an iron and ironing board in it, in case I needed to iron one of the four pairs of shorts I packed. There was nothing else of interest--no Jacuzzi, no passage to Narnia (drats!). The bathroom was all shiny, with fresh white towels, the little soap, shampoo and conditioner on a little tray, and the toilet paper folded over to form a V. I did notice that the little card that was with the soap said to call down to the front desk for any number of toiletries that you may have forgotten. (I should have left everything at home so I could of gotten the most out of the hotel.)

We were only staying for two nights, so there was no real reason to make use of the dressers in the room, so we left them untouched. We left our clothes in the suitcase and found a place to set them that was out of the way and easy to get to. The room actually had a refrigerator and a microwave, which was nice. We could have saved a fortune on eating out by packing a family-sized box of Hot Pockets. Though the microwave wasn't necessary, the refrigerator did end up being of use: not only was I able to chill our beverages in it, I was also able store the leftovers from our various eating trips there (I am cheap and hate to waste food).

The bed was enormous, and after being in the car for so long, I just wanted to dive in and sleep. Well, maybe not sleep right away -- there was that large TV calling to me, with its many channels. We only have about 23 channels at home, so having been presented with the next tier up in the cable world (including multiple Showtime Channels), I could not wait to give the controller a spin. Unfortunately, I had two small problems, the first being my two year old daughter. Because we were in a new place full of new things to check out, she was wide awake, despite the late hour. That meant only kid-appropriate programming was going to be on until she went to sleep. (Not that I was planning on ordering a bunch of porn or anything, but there is always a mindless action movie or something on.) The second issue was that, because we haven't had good cable in a while, I forgot how crappy cable television was. There are some excellent TV shows on cable, I am very aware of this, and usually have to wait for them to show up on Netflix. Being at the hotel for only two days, and with all of the activities we had in store, it was unlikely that they were going to have a marathon of a good show on while we were in the room to see it. Then again, if all of last season's Walking Dead was on, I probably wouldn't have left the hotel room.

I did feel the urge to take a shower after we had all gotten settled in, which had nothing to do with being in a car for several hours. I think it has something to do with the need to use all of the free stuff that the hotel had to offer. Not only did I have to use the soap, shampoo and conditioner (and I never use conditioner at home), but I also had to use every towel that was available. I used the wash cloth, the hand towel and the big towel. (By the way, the big towels aren't really that big. I don't know why anyone would even think to steal them, but then again, I wasn't exactly in the Waldorf Astoria.) Once used, I just piled them up in the middle of the floor, something I would never do at home. In fact, at home I would have reused the same towel for two or three showers.

It is a nice feeling to know someone else would be cleaning the room and doing all the laundry after we left. Just for the record, neither my wife nor I were jerks about it. I wasn't throwing garbage around and saying, "oh well, the help will get that." We kept the room tidy, and piled all the towels up neatly for easy access. I even folded the toilet paper to make an arrow again.

Once I was out of the shower and we got the young lady to sleep it was time for my wife and I to spend some quality alone time. And by quality alone time, I meant me trying to convince my wife that we should have sex. There is something about hotel rooms that just makes me want to have wild crazy hotel room sex, whether my wife is with me, or I'm alone (this would explain why people order porn in hotel rooms). I think alot of people share this view/feeling--unfortunately, my wife wasn't one of them. Maybe it was because she had done all the driving that day and was tired, or maybe she couldn't get past the fact that Gabby was only about three feet away. Maybe the whole sex-in-a-hotel thing is a guy thing? Whatever the reason, we ended up just going to bed. It wasn't even a great night of sleep; the matress was much firmer than the one we have at home and neither of us could sleep just right. (Maybe if there had been some exhausting/satisfying sex involved....)

The next morning it was time to enjoy our free breakfast. I am by no means a great traveller, but I have stayed in enough hotels to know that the breakfast wasn't going to be prepared by Wolfgang Puck in the hotel's four star restaurant. It actually ended up being not horrible, but then again, anyone who knows me would agree that I would eat rocks if they were prepared propely. The breakfast buffet included cheese omelets and sausage, which weren't too bad. There was also all your usual continental breakfast fare: toast/bagels, muffins, a cereal bar (three types of cereal only), a crock full of oatmeal, fresh (or not so fresh) fruit, etc. They even had the traditional make-your-own waffle maker, which has always made me wonder, why make-it-yourself waffles? I have seen them in a number of hotels and have been left wondering each time. Do people love waffles so much they refuse to eat prepared ones? How does Eggo make any money if this is true?

The next day was spent visiting the Roger Williams Zoo, followed by a quick trip to the grave of HP Lovecraft, and then back to the hotel. We were planning on meeting up with a friend of my wife's from Seattle who had moved to Providence, but, through a series of failing technologies and miscommunications, we were unable to meet up. This left a hole in our itinerary so we decided to go crazy and fill it with eating dinner at a typical Rhode Islandy eatery, and ended up at the Crackle Barrel (well, we tried). The restaurant was right across the street, and I think that was the main reason we went there. The meal was not great, but we had a good time.

Because we weren't meeting up with Christy's friends, I thought that night would be a great opportunity to hit the pool. I have stayed at several hotels with pools and always bring my swim trunks--unfortunately, I have never actually gone in. I love to swim, yet I never seem to make the time to use a hotel's pool. This time, I was bound and determined to use the pool.... and I didn't. I am still trying to figure out why I never got down to the pool. We got back from dinner that night and just hung out. It took a while once again to get the little one to sleep, and after that, we ended up sleeping.... no sex again. Rats!

That was it for our stay in the hotel. The next morning I showered again, of course: I had to use up the shampoo and conditioner. Breakfast was the same, just a different style of egg (scrambled) and meat choice (smoked suasage). We packed, loaded the car and headed for our next destination. We did not steal anything from the room, except a couple of pens (which wasn't really "stealing", but I had to take something from the room, and since the TV wouldn't fit in one of our bags...)

Our next stop was Cape Cod, to visit my wife's co-worker/friend and her husband (and their charming 3 year old daughter). Thankfully we were able to meet up with them, especially since we were supposed to be staying in their guest room that night. It was a nice room and a beautiful home. We enjoyed a delicious home-cooked dinner and spent most of the night chatting and had a great time. As great as it was, it was no hotel. And by that I mean, at someone's home you are required to be respectful of the home and the the things in it. You are under pressure to be on your best behavior. At a hotel, the only thing that prevents you from acting like a cocaine-fueled rock star (or Charlie Sheen -- wait, that's redundant) is the fact that they have your credit card info and will charge you for the damages. That and having a two year old go a log way to keeping you from going too crazy.

On the First Year

Well, I have been writing the blog for officially one year. May 16th, 2012 was the day I posted my first entry. It wasn't much of an entry, just a brief explanation of what the blog was going to be about, but still the beginning. What a strange journey it has been, for those that have been following it. There have been a number of embarrassing stories, from the time I pooped the bed, to the fact that I actually listened to the 50 Shades of Grey books at work. I have talked about the challenges of Diabetes (okay, maybe it has just been me whining about the food and drink I can no longer enjoy), my neighbor and his cereal exchange program, my children, and even tapped into some deep feelings to talk about friends/loved ones lost, and other personal stuff. What can I say, it's all about me!

Mostly, I have tried to focus on random non-sensical stuff that strikes me as funny. Whether it is about automated bathroom fixtures, lawn sales or the Olympics there is little rhyme or reason to my subject matter. I try not to get too political, but every now and then, I feel compelled to say something. Which is often a mistake, but what can I say, the level of political nonsense seems to be at an all-time high. But then again, when isn't it? Believe me when I say I have a lot more to share, and I always seem to run into stuff that makes me laugh (sometimes I'm the only one laughing), so don't think I am running out of stuff to write about!

What I really wanted to do with this post is to thank all of you who have shared or commented on my ramblings over the last year. It has been appreciated, and I am going to try to get back to a regular posting schedule. I started this as a way to try my hand at writing, seeing as how I never really wrote anything before. I never took an English class past high school because I was never really interested in it. I always wanted to be an artist and took drawing in college, but that has fallen by the wayside, and now, I really don't know what I want to be when I grow up. Writing is fun and therapeutic (you are all saving me a fortune in therapy), and is something that has my interest right now. Maybe I can figure out how to make something of this--I doubt it, but you never know!

Since I am insecure, I find myself constantly checking the stats on my blog (and now my Facebook page). I thought I'd take some time to share some of the numbers I have pulled. Compared to a real, professional blogger, my numbers are quite pathetic. Professionals probably get as many hits in a day/hour as I have gotten in months, but, because I am new to this, I am happy with any numbers I get. So without further ado, here are they are. (These are the numbers at the time of my writing. They may have shot up a whole point or two by the time anyone reads this.)

The post I have gotten the most hits to date is the one about wedgies and the Olympics. I have 322 views and every time I click on the post, the number seems to increase by one (just kidding, I stole that from The Office). The worst post so far was my first post (technically the second--the first, as I mentioned earlier, was the intro to the blog): apparently no one cared about my revelation that the short urinal at work was for midgets, not children (that is speculation on my part, but I still believe it wholeheartedly). It only has received 18 hits, but also has no tags and was before I got onto Google Plus, so maybe I should revisit it...

To go back to the more successful posts, my piece about stand-up comedy and unintended plagiarism was at 206 hits, making it the second most-viewed post. My review of the 50 Shades of Grey series, and the challenges of listening to it in the workplace, came in (no pun intended) at number three with 150 hits. The fourth and fifth highest are neck and neck, with 110 views logged of the story about when the crotch of my pants ripped out at a temp job, and 108 views for the one about the annoying energy-supplier-sales people who had been bombarding my house last year (and I see them again, walking the streets).

Most of my posts seem to settle in at around 50 views or so, with some spiking up over 70. A few have struggled and not been able to get much over 30 views, including such classics as the first Diabetes post, the story about pooping the bed, and the one I wrote about the Sesame Street Sex Scandal. I have no idea why some seem to take off, and others just do nothing. I don't think it is because of subject matter, though the "political" posts are among the lower viewages. Maybe it is the subject matter, maybe it is my awesome writing (that, I doubt) but what ever it is, I will keep writing about whatever, and maybe a pattern will reveal itself.

I have 35 posts to date, and I hope to match this number for the next year. A post a week seems a bit daunting, but we will see. Thanks again for reading, please continue, and feel free to leave comments on the page. I promise I will respond when I get a chance. Also, spread the word! Tell your neighbors (even the creepy ones who bring you half-eaten boxes of serial) and your friends about the blog. Don't forget to like the Facebook page as well. I only have 41 likes for the page and would like to get more (https://www.facebook.com/NonWisdomFromTheFirstStall  ). I have been trying to make pseudo-memes (the random non-wisdoms that have been appearing on my pages feed) through the FB page and it seems to be going well so far. Anyway, I am rambling and I want to get this out. Thanks again and I will be getting another post out soon! I also added a list of the top ten of my posts on the site... enjoy!

On Terror, Terrorism and Why I Stopped Wearing Underpants

I wanted to write something about what happened at this year's Boston Marathon. Since I usually avoid writing about current events or anything too serious, I figured I would balance the seriousness of the subject matter with an explanation of why I gave up wearing underwear all those years ago.

I was not watching the Boston Marathon, as I am 100% opposed to running, so I did not see things happen live. (I have said it before, and I'll say it again: I only run if someone is chasing me, and I am happy with that.) My wife had come downstairs (she works upstairs in our home) and told me that something had happened at the Marathon and it might have been a terrorist attack. Bombs went off near the finish line and two people had been killed.

I waited a bit before I switched the TV over to see what was happening. Gabby and I were in the middle of a Barney view-fest and God knows, I would hate to interrupt the 138th viewing of Barney's Animal Alphabet Matching Game. Besides, did I really want Gabby (who is 2) to see all the stuff that was sure to be unfolding on the television? Sadly, I have to confess, Gabby was more of an excuse than anything else. It was really me who didn't want to see what was happening. There were two reasons I didn't want to watch: first was the strong feelings that were already starting to hit me because of this potentially being an act of terrorism, and the second reason was that I knew I would just get mad at the network TV coverage.

When I eventually switched over to see what had happened, it brought me right back to September 11th, 2001. I can remember very clearly (as I am sure most people who experienced it can) the day that the Twin Towers came down. I was not working that day, for whatever reason, and came out of the bedroom and turned the TV on. I wasn't quite sure what I was seeing. On the screen were the Twin Towers, smoke pouring out of one. Then suddenly the cameras started tracking a plane and it flew right into the second tower. Once I realized what was happening, I felt this tremendous surge of emotion.

I don't know if I cried or not, but the pain in my chest... well, pain is not the right word. I don't even know if I even know what the right words are. The closest that I can come to describing it is to take how I feel when I get really angry/frustrated (which usually results in tears) and add the sorrow I felt when I got the news that my father had passed away (which definitely left me crying) and smush the two feelings together. As I watched the coverage of the towers throughout the day, these feelings would ebb and flow inside me. When I saw what was done in Boston, those feelings came right back to the surface.

Maybe it is because I am the farthest thing from being an extremist in any way, but I cannot fathom what could bring a person to the point where they could murder innocent people to express their ideology, or disenfranchisement with something. I can't understand it and I never will. I know that the USA is not the wonderful, benevolent and innocent country that so many people who live here seem to think it is. Over the years our country has done plenty of questionable, if not down right "evil" things, both overtly and covertly. We, however, are not the only country guilty of  this. There are few countries out there that have a spotless history, and many are guilty of a lot worse things than we have ever dreamed of (I'm looking at you Josef and Adolph.) To think that it is justifiable to perform acts of terror is inexcusable.

And speaking of inexcusable, we need to do something, as a people, about the media in this country. It is getting out of control. I am just about to the point where I want the government to control the media. I pine to have the freedom of speech taken away from this country, because some people just won't shut the F__k up! 24 hour news channels are ruining this country. Maybe that is a bit extreme, but seriously, has any good come from this phenomenon? Every tragedy that befalls our country is blasted with non-stop coverage: interviews with neighbors, cousins, digging up any little bit of info, trying to beat out the other channels. The networks want to evoke emotional reactions in their viewers and pull out everything they can to manipulate them. I'm not even going to get into the fact that news channels seem to be more and more biased these days and appear to take advantage of events like this to promote what ever political viewpoint that they are championing. I think they all need to go away.

The best thing I saw, that seemed to sum up everything I am feeling toward the media, is a little cartoon with a guy sitting in a chair watching the news. The news reporter says "What can we do to lessen the grip of fear from terrorism?" and the guy turns off the TV. Brilliant.

If network TV isn't bad enough, then let's talk about social media... I'm talking about you, Facebook. Boy, my feelings on what showed up on there during this whole Boston Marathon business run the entire range from pride to utter disgust. Memes are often funny, but sometimes loathsome. I saw outpourings of support and kindness, I saw people taking advantage of the situation by posting erroneous or outright false images and I saw the usual political battles being waged again and again, shamefully using this tragedy to make their points.

Yes, they were Muslims, despite the fact that many thought that they were domestic terrorists. What is the big deal? I thought they were domestic terrorists as well, and I didn't watch any of the coverage, so was not influenced by any media source. I've seen several memes pointing out that they were both Muslims. Does this make it worse? I saw one that said they received welfare and financial aid. Again, does it matter? These people people were willing to plant bombs and kill innocent people -- is this the time to point out that we have a system that is easy to take advantage of? I am getting to the point where I am about to take some computer programming classes so that I can learn to write a program that will filter out and delete any meme that is not funny... or has Grumpy cat on it... I'm getting tired of Grumpy Cat.

In conclusion, my heart goes out to all those who were affected by this horrible attack. I, like most of us, were glad to see that they got the two responsible. I don't even care that the one was killed. If that makes me a bad person, then so be it. I am glad they caught one alive, though. I think it will help answer questions that may have been left if he wasn't (like, if there were more people involved). With the capture of the assailants, let us hope we can put this tragic event behind us, and allow those who were affected directly to recover.

Now that I have had my say, as promised, here is a brief (pardon the pun) explanation of why I don't wear underwear anymore: I am not sure if I have mentioned it before (this would be a great opportunity to read through all my blog posts and check) but at some point late in my high school career I decided that underwear was not for me. How I came to this decision, I cannot remember. I always have said jokingly that I thought this would help my chances of having crazy porn sex (since the "actors" in the adult film industry never seemed to wear underwear). I did not really believe this, as many years of "going commando" did not seem to help me have any sex, forget crazy porn sex.

I do remember ending up with several pairs of jockey shorts one year and wearing them quite happily, until we had gym class. The underwear actually hung down past the bottom of my shorts. I was so self conscious that I found my self constantly adjusting them as we were engaged in whatever the sport du jour was. Unfortunately it did not escape the eyes of the gym teacher who liked to "pick" on kids (not to an excessive level) and he started teasing me about my wardrobe malfunction. I refused to wear my jockey shorts again after that.

I also remember preferring to let the old twig and berries bounce free instead of wearing a jock strap when I played sports. I found jock straps uncomfortable and knew there would be no thong wearing in my future. Not that the jock strap went up my crack or anything, but I didn't like the feel of the straps on my butt.

The exact reason for my non-underwear decision will probably always be a mystery. But then again, I don't understand why I do a lot of the things that I do. What I do know, is that "going commando" has saved me hundreds of dollars over the years, from buying new pairs, to all of the laundry related expenses I have incurred. Despite a few occasions where I was wearing short shorts (not male Daisy Dukes, or LT. Jim Dangle from Reno 911 short shorts, just regular short shorts) and I had an escapee, free balling has served me well. Though I must confess, I do have a few pairs of underwear in my drawer, primarily for doctor visits. I feel uncomfortable when the doctor says to strip down to my underwear and they come in and I am fully nude.

I don't think that I will ever go back to wearing underwear. When I do, it feels weird and uncomfortable. It gets so hot and sweaty down there -- how do you people stand it? And if anyone feels like performing an act of terrorism, just pull my shorts down in a public place. That image will terrorize people for years to come.

On the Album That Changed My Life

I love music! There is no other way to say it. I love it so much that I really believe that I was a famous musician in a past life, but a truly despicable person. If you believe in reincarnation and the whole Karma thing, this statement makes perfect sense because the level at which I love music, is only surpassed by how badly I perform it. As the saying goes, I couldn't carry a tune in a basket.

I also lack the ability (or maybe it is just the energy) to learn an instrument. I may have mentioned this before, but after I left my first wife, and before I started really dating my current (and God willing, last) wife, I bought a guitar and decided I was going to learn how to play it. Heading over to my local library, I found a book entitled something like "Learn How to Play the Guitar in Three Easy Steps". What they neglected to say was that step two was learn and memorize hundreds of chords. It was like those activity books that we had as kids, when they showed you how to draw Barney Rubble in four steps. It started with a couple of circles, next a lot of lines and Shazam! Done! There needed to be at least 6 more boxes to actually do it.

I am not sure why, but I was thinking back on the music I liked as a kid, and what I listen to now. There is a significant difference and I have to say there was one album that jumps out at me as THE ALBUM that changed my musical preference. Before I tell you which one it was, let me tell you about my musical choices when I was younger.

In several blog posts I have mentioned my parents' large album collection. That is where I began listening to music. It was mostly 50's and 60's stuff with lots of Beach Boys, The Animals, The Beatles, Simon and Garfunkel and stuff like that. I remember having a music class in school and we were supposed to bring in an album that we liked and play a song. The other kids brought popular music of the times, but I remember bringing in the soundtrack to American Hotwax. I also remember being embarrassed because it was unlike anything any of the other kids were listening to.

I was also a product of the early 80's and remember listening to the radio a lot as well. Some of the top 40 music I listened to back then, I still enjoy today--some just makes me shake my head in disbelief. I can even remember hearing myself exclaim "I don't think there is a single Duran Duran song that I don't like." I'll let you judge whether that statement is groan-worthy or not. The Steve Miller Band's Abracadabra also was a song I loved and when it first came out and it takes me to a week spent at Black Lake, NY. I could run down a long list of bands that I enjoyed and share the memories associated with them but I will try and stick to important ones.

When I started junior high school, my musical taste did take a turn, to some degree. I think as soon as you got to 7th grade at Argyle Central School, they gave you your locker combination and a copy of Aerosmith's Greatest Hits. That was the album of choice, it seemed, for my class. That, and AC/DC, seemed to be regulars on field trips and such. I enjoyed them, but I also found I liked nontraditional music as well. I remember our class was going to Canada for a field trip and of course someone was playing the required listening in the back of the bus. My friend brought his boom box (I miss boom boxes, it was a much simpler time) and he had a tape that he had gotten recently by some guy named Falco. We listened to it in our seat, and to quote McDonald's, I was loving it! I talked him into slowly turning the volume up, little by little, because I wanted others to hear this awesome music. I think I got to about volume level 3 before the first "Turn that shit off" came from the "cool" kids in the back. It went off.

At this point, I was at a bit of a crossroads. What music was going to define me? Was I going to fit in and listen to what everyone else was listening to, whether it be the Top 40 stuff, or the prescribed classic rock of my peers? It was around this time that THE ALBUM appeared to me and redefined my musical taste for years to come. Sifting through my parents collection I found an album that caught my eye. On the cover was this guy swinging a sword or something. He had a shield and was glowing with motion blur all around him. I read the title: Black Sabbath Paranoid. I played the album and instantly fell in love.

I played that album countless times, over and over again, for months. I was a little partial to side one, but that may have been a bit of laziness on my part (you had to flip albums over when they were done, this being directed at anyone under a certain age) but all of the songs were awesome. (Well, Planet Caravan was my least favorite, and there was a skip on the beginning of Rat Salad that I always would forget about. To this day, when I hear that song, I am always surprised when there are only two little riffs before the song starts in earnest. I would hear at least 4 before I bumped the player.)

Heavy metal was to become my music of choice. Paranoid was my gateway drug to progressively harder music. Being geographically isolated, I didn't even know about Punk Rock music until I got to college, but for the later years of High School, it was Iron Maiden, Anthrax, Judas Priest, Pantera, Megadeath, etc. I never grew my hair long and you could not tell I was a heavy metal lover, but I was. I arrived at college with a collection of hair metal bands and a stereo/dual tape deck/record player combo, ready to rock out with my roommate. Unfortunately he was from India and played classical Indian music on his violin. This tale I will leave for another time.

College would be my next big musical shift as I discovered Punk rock. I didn't even realize this genre existed. The Ramones, the Dead Kennedys, The Descendents, Black Flag -- all of these bands I discovered when I became a DJ at the school radio station. For the sake of not making this a novella, I will tell you all about my radio show at KSLU, the only K in the east, another time. My big hair band collection started collecting dust as my new favorite genre took its rightful place.

I brought punk rock home with me, much to my parents' dismay. Not only because the singers tended to liberally use profanity in their songs, but also for my tendency to crank the radio up to the point of ear-splitting volume, but forget to turn it down when I got out of the car. Surprise! Punk both made me feel happy and sad when I bought an album: one album could have 20 something songs on it -- now that is getting your money's worth! Then I would realize the album was only 30 minutes long, and feel a little cheated. Punk rock and the emotion in the music was something that helped me through some rough times and helped punctuate the awesome times. I can remember sitting under the stars on a deserted bleacher, with the Descendents telling me that "my day will come, someday I'll be the only one" in reference to that girl I was pining for (it never did, by the way). When I got dumped by my very first girlfriend, it was Suicidal Tendencies telling me that "You can't bring me down!" 

As I have grown, I find myself realizing I never stopped liking the bands I listened to in the past. Today I love just about every kind of music. I still sing along when Hungry Like the Wolf  comes on, as well as The Trooper by Iron Maiden. My musical tastes have even broadened as I discovered Frank Sinatra, Louis Armstrong, Loius Prima and other musicians that I would never have given a second listen to in my youth. I just love music, in any form (except Justin Bieber -- I'm just saying).

Despite the broad range of music I like, I find I gravitate to 80's and 90's punk bands like NOFX, Pennywise, The Descendents, The Ramones, etc. Because I listen to these bands, I am actually passing the torch on to my kids. Nothing makes me happier than watching my kids sing along to the Blitzkrieg Bop on Rock Band or singing along with my CAKE albums in the car. Even my two year old surprised me with her own rendition of I Will Wait by Mumford & Sons. It's my job as a parent to make sure that they realize that there are a lot of different styles of music and that they should feel free to listen to whatever they want, to hell what anyone else says. Except for Barney -- that shit has got to go!

Just in case anyone asks you, or you are trying to hack my account and this security question comes up, my favorite band is Bad Religion. And if you are in Glens Falls or Hudson Falls and the weather is nice and some yahoo is blaring really fast, loud and obnoxious music out of there car, it's probably me.

On Losing the Last Two Months of My Life

I recently realized that I had been rather lax about getting a new blog post up and decided to slowly get myself ready to start writing again. For some reason I thought I would get inspired by checking and seeing when it was that I started this blog. May 16th 2012 was the date I "published" my first post, and the fact that my one year blogiversary is a month and a half away was not the first thing that I noticed. When I saw that the last post that I "published" was January 29th I almost swore outloud. (I was at work at the time, and thought it would be inappropriate... I cannot even type that with a straight face. The people who sit near me are some of the sickest, most twisted and generally inappropriate people I have ever met... and I love them for it! )

I knew I did not post anything in March, but had no idea that I had missed February as well. Now you may be asking yourself, "How could he have not realized that he hadn't written anything in two months? Was he sick? Did he hit a rough patch in his life? Drugs? Alcohol? Did he get really busy?" I truly wish I could say yes to any of these, but the reality of the situation can be summed up in three little words: World of Warcraft.

Yep, an online video game derailed my creativity and took over my life for the last couple of months. I wish I could say I was done with it, but alas, I will be fighting an ongoing battle to balance my time between writing and gaming for the foreseeable future. The problem was that Blizzard, the makers of WoW, came out with a new expansion for the game. At first the price point was beyond my meager finances, but after months of ignoring it, the price dropped down to a mere twenty dollars and I couldn't say no. Then it began.

I become obsessive when it comes to video games -- it is a problem I have always had. I would get a new game and do little else until I beat it. Once I got into a game I would lose hours of my life. I can remember one time my ex-wife commented that she went to bed and woke up the next morning and I was in the same exact position. It was true: I had played straight through the night, saying to myself "Once I get to this point I will stop." I would get there and say "Just a little bit more," and the next thing I knew it was the next morning. (It was one of the Zelda games, if you were wondering.)

This is not a new condition for me and I am not the only person in my family that suffers from it. I remember as a child, my family always seemed to have a video game system. We started with a pong game, moved on to an Intellivision, then to the Atari, and finally the Nintendo. My mother would play just as much as us kids. She used to tell me that she would get the high score in a game, and then my brother and I would play like crazy to beat her score. It was also the first time I ever heard my mother swear. She was playing a game and I kept hearing "shit!" and "damn it!"

This obsessive personality is one of the main reasons I avoid video games now. I have a Wii and a couple of Game Cubes for the kids, but I really don't touch them. It is too easy to get sucked into games -- at least for me it is. Especially since the graphics are a million times better than the best video games of my youth. I mean, I remember the handheld football games that were popular in the 80's. Just a little dot, with up, down, left and right buttons (plus a pass and punt button). The only games I do play now, except for WoW, are the Rock Band/Guitar Hero games, but I will talk more about my love of music and my desires to be rock star in another post.

I have basically committed myself to playing just one video game. That is how I am trying to handle my gaming addiction. Unfortunately, the one game I have chosen is an unending MMORPG. World of Warcraft goes on and on and on, and just when you think you have done everything that you want to do in the game, they come out with a patch full of new content. These patches are designed to keep you happy and playing until the next big expansion comes out. When an expansion is released, you go crazy working to get your character to the next maximum level, raising all of your character's skills to the new maximum level, and then you can start going after all sorts of achievements. Aaaaahhhh. Too much to do. I am getting all twitchy and wanting to switch over right now, but I won't. I am going to finish this blog post tonight, and if I have time maybe I'll jump on to WoW for a little bit.

One of the things I find funny, and a bit sad, is that the game added farming to the things you can do in the game (which already includes First Aid, Fishing and Cooking) with the newest expansion. I log on every day to plant new crops and harvest the ones that are ready to be picked. I also run/fly (not only can my character turn into a bird, but I also have a good collection of flying mounts) around and fish, to get the ingredients I need to increase my cooking skill. I will spend hours fishing and farming in the game, two tasks you couldn't pay me to do in real life.

I don't exactly know where this post is going -- it was supposed to be a way of explaining my absence from blogging, and was going to contain an apology for those who have been reading faithfully, that I left high and dry. I am truly sorry! But if it is any consolations, my main character is at level 90, First Aid, Fishing, Cooking, Skinning and Leather Working are all at 600. I just got my reputation to 'exalted' with the Tillers and I am about to work on the Anglers, and sorry, I am sorry, I will stop now. I'm geeking out big time again. (I'm Lemykins on Quel'dorei server, find me!)

Notice the giant vegetables I have planted... help me!!!

P.S. You will also notice this post is shorter than my usual one, but hey, I did say I would jump on the game after I finished blogging....

How I Got the Beetus, part 3: My Caramel Coloring Addiction

Hello, my name is John... and I am a sodaholic. I have already talked about my love of cake and candy. Now it is time to talk about one of the biggest reasons I ended up with type 2 diabetes: soda. Carbornated beverages have always been my crack. They are cheap, easy to get, and terrible for me.

I believe, like most issues I have, my addiction is all my parents' fault. I am just kidding, of course, but let me explain why I even brought my parents into this. When I was young, my siblings and I were not allowed to have soda. We could drink it at parties and other special occasions, but not as an everyday beverage. My father drank soda like it was water (which it basically is -- just carbonated -- but I digress...) and I would watch him. It hardly seemed fair, while I guzzled glass after glass of milk, he partook of the sweet dark brown nectar known as soda. It was no wonder that once I grew up and got out on my own, soda became my beverage of choice.

As usual, I will sidetrack here. Before I get into a discussion about my unhealthy obsession with soda, let me tell you a little bit about my addictive personality. I have always been afraid that I was predisposed to addiction and have always avoided alcohol and drugs like the plague.

If anyone has ever watched the show Taxi, you will surely remember Christopher Lloyd's character, Reverend Jim Ignitowski. He was your basic lovable burnout that did waaaay too many drugs in his life. There was an episode where they showed Jim's life before he got into drugs: he was a preppy college student who didn't want anything to do with drugs, until a girl (his girlfriend?) pressured him to try a pot brownie. In this episode, he delivers this wonderful line, saying that it has been proven that some people have a highly addictive personality and you never know, he may be one of them. He takes a bite of the brownie and his face distorts, going back to the same facial expression the later, drug-addled Jim would possess. He tells the girl to run ahead and when he's alone he grabs a bunch more brownies.

I always thought that was something that could happen to me and thought the best way to combat it would to be to avoid drugs and alcohol. I can't even stop picking my nose--I can only imagine what would happen if I got hooked on something that was truly addictive. I still have never tried drugs, but I did break my rule on alcohol. Not that I drink, but I have sampled many, many different alcoholic drinks. Usually it was to humor someone who was convinced that you could not taste the alcohol in a particular drink. I always could. I never aquired a taste for alcohol, therefore never learned to like it.

That all being said, I truly believe I am addicted to soda. Maybe it is just that this is my primary source of caffeine, but whatever the reason, I am hooked. Well, I think I have isolated my addiction to caramel coloring, because I only drink the dark-colored sodas. Cola is my first choice and when it comes to it, I am not particular. I will drink Coke or Pepsi (I favor Pepsi, but that is primarily because that is the one that seems to go on sale the most around here). I usually drink Sam's Club (generic WalMart cola) because it is still only 84 cents (or is it 87?) for a 2-liter bottle, and with the amount I drink, cost is the most important factor.

I will drink Dr. Pepper and Root Beer, but tend to avoid the Sprites, Ginger Ales, Mountain Dews, Oranges and other non-dark brown carbonated beverages. I will drink them in a pinch but only if I have to. God forbid I should drink water! I also don't care what time of day it is -- I will drink Soda at breakfast, lunch or dinner, and often imbibe at all three times of day.

Food does have some effect on when I drink soda: if I am having pancakes or eggs, soda is okay, but if I am eating a bowl of cereal, absolutely not. Cola and milk do not mix--sorry Ms. Defazzio. There are some foods, like Pizza, that I have trouble eating without my favorite beverage. This seems to confirm that I do have an addiction, because you often hear stories of how certain activities, or places will make smokers want to smoke. As soon as I am in front of a pizza, I just have to have a nice tall glass of whatever cola is available.

Not to steal material from comedian Lewis Black, but has anyone ever gone to a restaurant and decided not to eat there because they served Pepsi and not Coke, or vice versa? Do people actually refuse to drink Pepsi if the restaurant doesn't serve Coke? Some people must be beverage-loyal, because why do waitresses always ask you if Coke is okay when you ask for Pepsi, or if Pepsi is okay when you ask for Coke? Anyway, I'm drifting away from my topic, once again.

Before my diagnosis, I would drink straight-up Cola. Do you have any idea how much sugar is in a 2-liter bottle of soda? I would often drink at least a bottle a day. Who am I kidding? I could drink a bottle at a single meal. I used to buy a 2-liter bottle from the local convenience store and drink it straight out of the bottle throughout the day at work--every day. I sometimes could make a 2-liter last for two days, but most of the time it was done by the end of the work day. What do you think I drank when I got home? Yep, more (sugar) soda. So after years and years of pouring sugar down my throat, it is no surprise that I have the beetus.

Well now that I am actually making an effort to slow the progress of my disease, I have made the transition to diet cola. I have greatly reduced the amount of cola I consume, and at work I drink mostly water, with a cup or two of tea to get the caffeine my body needs. When I am at home, however, soda is the beverage of choice. At some level I have just traded filling my body with sugar with filling it with chemicals that are probably going to do as much damage, but I seem unwilling or unable to stop.

I know I should give up the soda, or at least try to cut back even more, but until scientists come out and say that each 20-ounce bottle is taking 6 months off of my life or something similar, I will keep drinking it. To think, all those years ago, my parents weren't being stingy, they were just trying to help me from getting hooked, like them. If only I had listened!