Story of my beard

When I was very young, one of the neighborhood kids was very obese.  He could not be described as having baby fat, or being chunky.  He was 6 or 7, and was round.  He seemed really nice, and kept to himself.  I admit to being bad with names, but in fairness, nobody in the neighborhood knew his name.  As far as we knew, his name really was "Fat Kid".  He answered to it, so it must be true.  This is where you say "kids can be cruel".  He didn't go to our school, he didn't play with the other kids.  He chose to be alone.

On one afternoon, our play options were limited.  It had rained all day, so we were confined to playing under the covered parking at our apartment complex.  We all played with our cars, reenacting last nights episode of Dukes Of Hazzard.  Fat Kid comes over and asks if he can play.  I gave him some of my cars (that I had carefully picked out), and we resumed our game.

Everything was going well, until one of my friends started making fun of me.  Not to say that is bad.  Making fun of each other and our families is a solid form of entertainment in the neighborhood I grew up in.  I don't know what he said, but I fired right back.  This led to my other friend to join in, and we were going round and round.  Typical comments are "your mama so black, she gets marked absent at night school or your nose so big, you pick it with a boxing glove".  This banter is an open invitation for anyone to join in.  We do this so often that if you jump in, you better be prepared.

At this time Fat Kid decides to join in the fun.  He turns to me and says "your so stupid, you keep Frosted Flakes in the freezer".  Then hits me with "your so fat, when you sit around the house, you sit AROUND the house".  Followed by "my mom took me to the circus, you can't afford to go".  (Please remember we are all under 7 years old).  The way I see it, he got three good shots in.  I was being nice by not responding, but he just called me stupid, fat and poor.  So I laid into him:

• Your so fat, you don't use a lunch box, you use a suitcase 
• When you went to circus, do they try to feed you peanuts and make you do tricks?
• Was the circus scared that you would steal their tent to make another shirt?
• We can afford the circus, we just can't fit if you are there.
• You are so fat, I don't know where your face stops and your stomach starts

He started crying after the second put down, the last comment made him snap.  By the time I was done, he was charging at me with both arms spinning.  He looked ridicules, like the robot from Lost in Space.  Instead of fighting him, I jumped back and yelled "he is going to eat me!!!"

I knew right away that I had done a bad thing.  The other kids stared at me, while Fat Kid left the parking lot crying.  I usually felt good about myself after I cut someone down, a feeling of power.  My friends, sensing my sadness, did what friends do.  Make you feel worse.  "Wow, that was really mean".  Thanks, you really know how to cheer a guy up.  After, what seems like an hour of silence, Roger walked up to me.  Roger was my closest friend.  Our front doors were three feet apart.  Surely he would make this better.  "Don't feel bad, Fat Kid deserved it...he just stole three of your cars".

This memory is steeped in lessons.  All of which I could have learned from, and been a better person.  The one that stands out the most was that one comment "you are so fat, I don't know where your face stops and your stomach starts".  That is when I decided, when I grow up, I am growing a beard.

My parents said I'm beautiful

Fill your kids with confidence, there are a lot of people in the world that are ready to knock them down.  You don't have to one of them.  Tell them they are beautiful or handsome, tell they are smart.  Let the rest of the world tell them they are ugly or dumb.  And when they do, be there to pick up the pieces.  This is text book parenting.  This is what we are supposed to do.

I don't care that I was not raised that way.  I managed to get by regardless of my upbringing.  It has made me a better parent.  I don't adhere to the helicopter parent approach, but I do a good job.  That helicopter parent is doing more damage than good.  They are hovering around their kid, keeping them from encountering those things that will make them stronger.  They keep their kids covered in a layer of sanitizing gel, then the child gets a common cold and is laid up in the hospital for a week.

Teach your kids the meaning of work.  They are not too good to get their hands dirty.  This country would be nowhere if early settlers didn't step out of their comfort zone.  This sense of entitlement is going to lead to our country's down fall.  It is not a step down if your kid is digging ditches.  I did it, and I turned out fine.  As a matter of fact, I tell people on a regular basis, that digging ditches was the only job I had, where you start at the top and work your way down. Go ahead and write that down.

Confidence is good, dumping it in them like they are awaiting the throne is not.  They will have to eventually fend for themselves.  Telling them that they are model material is bad too.  I'm sure you think your child is gorgeous, you have too.  Just be realistic about it.  They will one day be at a modeling agency insisting that they have what it takes and end up being the model demonstrating how to use a Neti Pot.

Do what you want to do, just remember this.  You could raise your children my way or you could open a pamphlet and see your little girl with a plastic pot shoved up one nostril and water pouring out the other.  You decide.





Note: the Neti Pot is a fine product that works well.  I just don't think I want anyone to see me use one.

Learn how to speak!!!

I may have not had the best upbringing, but there are some things I am very thankful for.  The biggest thanks would be that we were ruthless to each other.  My brother and sister would pick apart any flaw, and I to them.  For instance, when I was a kid I had a nervous habit of saying "uhm".  My siblings declared me a retard and that I sounded stupid.  This only helped me feel self conscious.  Where they helped the most is when my sister decided to show me how stupid I sound.  Every time I said "uhm", she would mock me by yelling "muuuhhh".
I am pretty sure that it was not their intention to help me.  Nor is it mine, when I make fun of others.  I do hope that it helps them in the future.  If you are close to me, I will be very quick to point out your shortcomings.  If you are not, I am very hesitant.  This is a learned behavior, from years of people telling me to be nice.  This makes me boil over, I need to say something, so I will say it to you.
One of the department heads, at my work (let's call her Terry), has some sort of speech impediment.  I don't know if it a true impediment.  I'm kind of giving her the benefit of the doubt.  She can not say school or cool, she says skoo and koo.  She doesn't do it in a ghetto way, that's just how she pronounces it.  So you can imagine, I find every opportunity to get her to say these two words. 
The other day, she comes into my office and is talking about a recent purchase.  She says that she got it at Walmark.  Hmmm, this caught my interest, so I made her repeat it.  Yes she said Walmark.  My office staff, knowing that I am an A-Hole, decide to jump into the conversation.  She must have said it twenty times.  So I guess it makes it official...

Terry thinks Walmark is too koo, for skoo.

Hot cup of prozac with Therepy on the side

It is not a crime to ask for help.  (It is if it involves a dead body, but that's a different story.)  It's good to talk about your problems, get things off your chest, and get help working things out.

Every once and a while, someone says something that makes me wonder, "who hurt you?!?!"  Other times it is very apparent.

This man was hurt so badly that he felt compelled to graffiti a bathroom door.  Even though I think it is extreme, I don't know both sides of the story.

This was a mixed relationship, that much I know.  The writing was above my waistline, so he was not a midget himself.  I also tend to think that if he was a midget, he would not be so quick to point out her size or that it would not be a factor into the statement.

This is probably not the first Midget relationship he has had.  He makes a point to say "bitches" not "bitch", and I would also tend to think that he would be more specific if it was one woman.

Ether way you cut it, this man was hurt.  He may have done it in a drunken rage, but all I see is a cry for help.  It is a shame to see relationships go sour, and hope that time will heal this wound.  There are plenty of Midget fish in the sea, I'm sure that when he is ready, he will cast that little rod and hook another.

You drive a what?!?!

Personally, I think the main reason that car manufacturers inject new blood into existing lines, they are running out of names.  Maybe I am off base, but it can't be too long before it happens.  When I was a kid, cars had cool sounding names and were all about horse power and getting 12 FT to the gallon.  That is how you made it directly to third base.  Not that I know anything about that.  I drove a 69 Plymouth Valiant, that would make you swallow your retainer when I opened her up.  (See that, that there is car talk). 

All the cool names are gone.  So I suggest moving toward medical terminology.  The Ford Glaucoma or the Toyota Tetanus.  Those are cars I would drive.  Or use accounting terms.  The Honda Amortization sounds way better than the Honda Fit.  The Amortization sounds like it dominates other cars, the Fit sounds like Richard Simmons made it.  This is not when all the Fit owners threaten me.  I know they are good cars, they just could have taken more than 10 minutes to name it.  Imagine if it was named the Honda Capitalize or the Macroeconomic.  It doesn't change the car, just gives it a cool name.  Don't be mad, I'm in the same boat.  I have a Scion Xb, that I really wish was called the Viagra.

Dedication

In everything you do, you should show a certain amount of dedication.  This should allow you the greatest chance of success.  Dedication in your relationship is a good example.  Putting your heart into it.  This is good.  Dedication in your job, is a preferred state.  But, sometimes it is for not.  You can pour your heart into it, and your employer not appreciate it or even worse, work environment continues to be stressful no matter how dedicated you are.  It may take a lot of blood sweat and tears before you realize it is not a good fit.  If you cannot find an alternative position, and feel helpless.  Don't worry, it is not permanent.

Not like a tattoo on your head of a guy mowing your hair.

Merry New Year!!

I trust everyone had a happy holiday.  Hopefully your stockings were filled with merriment and your champagne glasses overflowed with gifts.  I took a nice vacation, and got away from it all.  While I was away, I overflowed with things to write on my Blog.  It is so much, that I decided to break it off in small, digestible bites.  I do, however have something to get off my chest.

What the hell is Nog?  According to the dictionary it is a "strong ale formerly brewed in Norfolk, England".  Hmmmm, really?  The only Nog I know of is Eggnog.  Why is this the only Nog and why can't we have the strong ale formerly brewed in Norfolk, England?  That sounds delicious, and it doesn't sound like a seasonal item.  The Eggnog comes once a year.  It must be really lucrative to have an Eggnog company.  Either that or they are the same people that make Advent Calendars and Dreidels.  I say that in order to be considered a Nog, other companies need to catch up and create thier own lovely variations.  I close my eyes and imagine a thick sturdy ale...and smile.


Now the subject of bets.  It isn't so much that I like making them, I like making people do ridiculous things.  One of my favorite things is shave one leg.  The loser of the bet needs to shave one leg.  Any leg of their choice.  The fun part of it, they shave one for the bet, then have to decide if they want to shave the other one.  The female version, stop shaving one leg for two to three weeks.  


My Assistant and I recently had a bet.  No, not the shaving thing.  The bet is to wear two different pairs of shoes, one black the other a different color.  This gave her a lot of anxiety.  She realized that if she lost she would be wearing two different shoes that did not have matching heels.  She would be walking lopsided all day.  She also realized (way too late), that if I lost, I would not care.  I would rock the two shoes with pride.  Guess who lost.

Not only did she walk funny all day, her heels made two different sounds while walking down the hall.