Words of Wisdom

Wiping your bottom is not a job you want to half-ass.

The Gooder Life

What does it take to live the good life? Good job? Good family? Good friends? Good hobbies? Check, check, check and check. How about a football game? That would help. How about the first ever Omaha Nighthawks game with a bunch of friends and family. How about a little tailgating where the strangers next to us let us use their grill since ours wouldn't work. Nice. How about sitting in the front row and not having anyone in your way throughout the entire game? How about having Maurice Clarett give your nephew his glove? How about a Nelly halftime show? How about a TD pass from Garcia to Ferguson with 6 seconds left to take the lead? How about Ahman Green stomping all over the field and kicking the dirt yelling "my house"? Does this sound like the good life to you? Sounds like the gooder life to me.

Dear Sarah

Dear Sarah,
I’m putting my words in writing because when I try to speak them they come out a jumbled mess. You have me in knots trying to figure us out. You tell me to make sure I come back and see you, but you’re not even there half the time. Sometimes when you are there it’s like we’re the only 2 people around and no one else matters, but then just as quickly you focus your attention on someone else and start trying to make me jealous. I’m not here to play games. Well, not anymore I’m not. I came in the other day and spent all of my time with Katie and I swear you never even peeked over, not even once, even though you knew it was killing me inside. Maybe what we need is time apart, at least that’s what your boss said when he told me I should not come in for a while. What is a while anyway? I haven’t been there since Thursday and you weren’t even there so that shouldn’t even count. I do feel bad about Katie though as she looked pretty tore up when I was there. She made up some lame excuse about it being 5:00 and how she “had to go.” All I can say is I’m sorry. This relationship is complicated enough for the 2 of us. I had no business dragging an extra person into it. I never intended to mess with your friendship with Katie. You obviously can’t stand each other anymore because when I asked Katie when you worked next she said she didn’t know a Sarah. Ouch! Doesn’t look like she’s going to be getting over me anytime soon. She’s a sweet girl and all but I think it’s obvious that my heart belongs to only 1, and her name starts with s and ends with h. What? Who is Subhinderah? Why would I have a thing for the foreign guy who makes the fries on the weekends? It’s Sarah. It’s always been Sarah. And all couples face adversity. Sometimes disapproving friends, sometimes cultural differences, and sometimes Sarah puts in for a transfer to a store a little further away and doesn’t tell me. That’s cool, everyone needs space from time to time. I’m great at giving you space. I followed you to the movies the other night and sat 2 rows behind you and you never even saw me. How’s that for space? And how about the fact that I took your dog out of your yard, took him for a walk and painted his little doggy toe nails and returned him before you ever even knew he was missing? Space. I just wish we could stop playing the games. I expect the games from you, but I didn’t expect them from your mom. I was at your mom's bridge club last week and when I introduced myself to your mom as Sarah’s boyfriend she said “oh, you must be Mike”. It was at that moment that I knew how someone so lovable could turn so cold. Sure she pretended to care after I started crying, but I told her the damage had been done by that point. So here I am now and I feel like a decision has to be made and I don’t think I can trust you to make it because I never know what I’m going to get with you. So I’m going to give things one last try. “Hi Sarah, I think I’d like a Big Mac combo with a medium fry and drink”. And then it happened, that’s when I knew that you did still love me. You looked me straight in the eyes and said “would you like to upsize that for only .39 cents?” “Would I? You bet your ass I would” "Here you go, I put some extra ketchup packets on the tray for you.” “Extra ketchup? You had me at here you go.”

How Much Do You Love Your Baby?

Most businesses know how to market their products, but there are a large number of businesses that are leaving a lot of money on the table because of their inability to recognize the differences between men and women and take advantage of those differences. Good salespeople know how to play to their customer’s weaknesses. A good car salesman will tell a guy how fast the car accelerates from 0-60, how much horsepower it has, and how big a body will fit in the trunk. The same car salesman will tell a woman how many cup holders there are, point out the heated steering wheel, and then tell her about the 12 airbags that she’ll need when her husband goes from 0-60 in 2.3 seconds. This is the kind of smart selling that other businesses should take advantage of. One product that is totally missing the boat on this concept is baby strollers. What is a baby stroller? It’s a car for your precious newborn. I’m picturing this….
Stroller Salesman: Hello folks! What brings you into Stroller World?
Wife: Uhmm, we’re looking for a stroller.
Stroller Salesman: Well you came to the right place. It’s good to see a couple that cares about their baby’s safety.
(This is where the stroller salesman will grab the attention of the wife with some alarming statistic that no one will ever think to disprove.)
Here at Stroller World all of our models are safety tested and are 73% less likely to be involved in a life threatening head on collision with a recreational vehicle. Is safety important to you?
Wife: Well yeah, of course it is.
Stroller Salesman: That’s great! I could tell you two were good parents the minute you walked in the door.
At this point the wife is hooked but the husband is starting to fade. This is where the salesman starts pointing out how well the stroller handles in rough terrain. A product demonstration can seal the deal. The stroller store should have a 12 ft strip of mud, rocks, and tall grass set up in the middle of the store. Let the husband try to push a regular stroller through the 12 ft strip (and by regular stroller I mean one with wheels half the size of any other stroller). The stroller should be packed full of left over lunch meat beneath the baby blanket. After the stroller gets stuck the salesman will release a small mountain lion that hasn’t eaten in 2 days.
Two hours later, after the financing has been worked out, the parents leave with their brand new $6500 baby transporter equipped with air conditioning, side impact airbags and 4 wheel drive. Others will tell them that they paid way too much but they’ll know that those people just don’t love their babies as much as they do. And how will they know? Because the owner’s manual will say so.

The Fashion Double Standard

The Fashion Double Standard

I’d like to take this time to speak to the women out there about something that has been on the minds of men for quite some time. We’re not supposed to talk about it though because it’s not manly to do so. Let’s talk about fashion, and more importantly let’s talk about this double standard that exists. “Dennis, come here and watch the football game with us….RIGHT NOW!!” Sorry guys, I’ve got to get this off my chest. Women want us to look boring when we go out. Jeans and a t-shirt, blue suit, shorts and a polo is fine, maybe just throw on some khakis and a nice shirt. How about you just buy us a collar with pretty jewels on it and a nice leash and you can parade us around and tell us what we should think. No more. Why is it that when a famous female actress wears something or cuts her hair in a certain way all women rush out to get it and expect us to notice. Remember how much trouble I got into in 1993 when you came home from the beauty salon with a new haircut and asked “so, what do you think?” And I looked back slightly bewildered and said “it looks nice.” Then you looked at me more sternly with a forced smile and said “does it look like her?” Slightly more worried by the turn of events I whispered “her who?” And you said, in the voice of the exorcist “her from Friends” At this point I put on a fake smile and laughed it all off like I was joking the whole time. “Of course I noticed when you came into the room. You look just like Monica.” I do believe it took three weeks of flowers, walking on egg shells, and having to sit through 2 hours of the tear jerker movie The Remains of The Day, twice before you began to forgive me for not knowing that the magic answer was Phoebe. “What? What do you mean it wasn’t Phoebe?” Three more weeks of hell I had to endure for that little mistake. But women are so quick to flock to whatever someone famous is wearing. “Did you see that little black dress she was wearing in that movie?” “Did I, I bought one this morning and it looks just as cute in the size 14 as it did in the movie. Don’t you think so honey?” “Sure does honey, whatever you say honey” Forgive me for my harsh use of letters, but this is BS. Women admire what the women in women’s films wear. They admire the clothes, the look, and just as importantly, they admire the hair. In the movies these characters are strong minded, beautiful women who tell it like it is. Just as women should be. Well guess what? We have movies with characters that we look up to as well. There are men on the big screen that we’ve dreamt of being like since we were little boys, since before our mothers got their hands on us to mold us into the shorts and t-shirts wearing men we are today. What if? Dare I ask? What if? “Don’t do it Dennis, just grab your slightly uncool, but cleared to be worn football jersey, put it on and come and watch tv.” Guys, I’ll be right there, I’m not wearing jeans and a t-shirt today. This is a big game and I’m going to wear what makes me feel good. A look of concern creeps over the faces of the other guys.
Guys, what movie did we see last weekend? Slight mumbling. I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you. What movie did we see last weekend? Dave says “we saw Ironman” We did didn’t we. And after the movie we stopped at the bar and had a couple of drinks and you said how sweet would it be to wear a metal suit of armor to work. Bob, what is your favorite movie you’ve seen recently? “Superman Returns” Bob says. Superman, there’s a great example. Clark Kent wears a nice blue suit with a fedora even, and does anyone notice him at work? Nope. He’s physically fit, very polite and wears a nice suit and cannot get the time of day. Now let’s look at Superman, he puts on blue and red tights with an S on the chest and a red cape and suddenly he’s the man. Men want to be him and women are swooning all over him. Peter Parker can’t even get a date in jeans and a polo but suddenly he’s in a skin tight jumpsuit that looks like a spider and he’s snapping photos of him kissing girls all over the city. Ironman was wearing a suit of armor and ladies were going crazy. Now I can hear the argument from the women, putting on Superman’s outfit doesn’t make you Superman. Well I don’t want to be the bearer of bad news but that little bob hair cut you got didn’t exactly make you into Rachel’s twin sister.
I’m not saying we should all go out and buy our favorite superhero costume, but why not make a look that is unique to us? One that makes us feel good about ourselves and makes us want to get up off our asses and do something. I can’t find any statistical studies to prove it, which is odd because I can find one that proves that playing with puppies makes old people happier, but I guarantee women out there that if you are ever in a situation that poses danger, men are 27% more likely to protect you while wearing a Superhero like costume then a man wearing a blue suit and a fedora. I’m sure I can find a school to prove it if needed. So how does this start? If I wear green tights with a hornet on my chest plate and have a green cape with an H on the back to work tomorrow, what then? Will I be sent home for being a distraction? Will I be shunned by everyone else in the office? Or maybe, just maybe I’ll walk in that room with my head held high to the thunderous sounds of men clapping. And maybe on Tuesday Geno from Systems will come in wearing his Flash Gordon outfit, and Mike in Mortgage will have on his Thor looking costume. And who benefits more when men feel like men? That’s right, women do. So the word will quickly get out and women will suddenly be ok with this trendy new fashion for men. Until, the women notice that it’s now the guys getting the looks when they walk into a room together. And then they cut the men off as only they can do. Until the men get weak and begin to crumble and finally one day after we’ve had enough, we get up, put on our khaki pants, blue polo, and spiked collar and go to brunch with you and the girls where the girls will talk about those horrible shoes that Kelly had worn to the party the night before. And the men will talk about the fashion double standard…”what did you guys say” “we said the regular cheeseburger is a fraction of that of a double cheeseburger. “

The Butch Experience

Butch Throckmorton was a manly man. The kind of guy that pulled a left over steak out of the freezer and ate it for breakfast, with his hands, while it was still frozen, but not his left over, someone else’s, because Butch would never not finish a steak. Butch led the kind of life that every man dreamed of. He lived in a house just outside of town with 20 acres of trees and wildlife with a pond stocked full of fish for fishing. He showed up at parties but was always late because he just got back into town from some week long expedition or some romantic getaway with a beautiful woman he had just met the week before. And even though he had a different woman with him every time, you never heard of a woman who didn’t like him, because he was such a manly man that the women he was with knew that it wasn’t going to be anything more than a great week, and they were ok with that, because he was Butch Throckmorton. But then he met Her, and he didn’t know why but he was feeling something he had never felt before. There was something about Her that was different, and it wasn’t just that her name was Her, yes that was different, but there was more. What was it? She was beautiful, but no more so than all of the other women he was used to being with. He could hear her laugh from across the room and it sounded like baby bunnies hopping across a field of flowers. Butch’s head was spinning. “Why am I thinking of baby bunnies when I usually think of fast cars and underwear models?” he asked himself. He asked a couple of people who she was but no one knew. Butch’s friends sensed that he was getting ready to unleash his irresistible manness on her and everyone stopped what they were doing to see the master in action. The men in the room lived vicariously through Butch and the women were ok with that because they were all too familiar with Butch’s charms and they too lived vicariously through the women that Butch dated. Butch approached Her and said something. No one knew what he said but knew if it was being said by Butch that it must be classic and that she would soon be enjoying the Butch Experience, which is what Butch’s guy friends called it even though they knew it sounded like it had a much different connotation. She turned to Butch and smiled, but this was different. This was a polite smile and then she turned away and continued her conversation. Butch was dazed, so much so that he stumbled back a few steps and knocked over a lamp. Every guy in the room that witnessed what had just happened gasped and had flashbacks of when Mike Tyson was knocked out by Buster Douglas. Suddenly guys jumped to assist Butch like cornermen in a fight. One guy waived smelling salt under Butch’s nose to get him to come around and another started putting Vaseline on Butch’s eyes. No one knew who that guy was and he was quickly escorted from the party. Who brings Vaseline to a party and starts putting it on someone’s face? What a freak. And Butch’s face? If Butch wasn’t in the condition he was in that man would probably have gone missing. After the weird Vaseline incident Butch regrouped and went back in. This time she stopped her conversation and turned to Butch and everyone in the room heard her say…”I’m sorry, do I know you?” to which Butch replied, “not yet, but you will.” There it was, classic Butch! A sense of relief filled the air and everyone could feel the cosmic forces realigning. But no one saw what was coming next, especially not Butch. Her, smiling, looked Butch in his eyes of blue steel and said “I don’t think so” and turned to finish her conversation. The guy she was talking to gave Butch a look that said “nice try, but you’re selling sautéed salmon and this girl drives a Toyota Camry.” What was going on? Butch just gave Her his best shot and she’s talking to this guy? That look didn’t even make sense. Toyota Camry? Butch made a few more attempts but each became slightly more pathetic than the one before. He started telling really loud stories about all of the girls he had dazzled with his “Butchness” as he called it. It was at this moment that the Butch Experience started to sound less and less cool. He even took his shirt off because of the ketchup stain he received when he took the ketchup bottle and started “accidentally” squirting himself. Then he began to rub himself and loudly proclaim “my giant muscles ache from chopping wood all day”. He looked around and could see the look of horror on everyone’s faces. Women had that look they get when another woman walks into a party wearing the same dress but in a smaller size. The men, the men had a look that’s hard to describe. The look you get when a hero lets you down. Like Mark McGwire admitting he took steroids, or the thought of fat delusional Elvis dying on the shitter. People tried to look away as Butch staggered out the door looking pathetic and defeated. Couples drove home in silence that night. Men never spoke another word about what had happened. No one heard from Butch Throckmorton again until several years later when the news ran a story about a guy who lived alone just outside of town on a bunny farm called The Butch Experience. And as couples watched that story they turned to each other, gave each other a loving kiss and said “wow, how pathetic is that guy?”

I Once Met A Girl From Ypsilanti

I want to travel to Ypsilanti. Not because there is anything in Ypsilanti that I particularly want to see, although I'm sure it's a lovely place and I'll bet they have a great waffle house or statue of a giant rooster. I'll settle for IHOP and Carhenge. I want to travel to Ypsilanti to meet a girl. I'm not hoping to fall in love or inspire a Lifetime movie or anything. I just want to be able to tell a story that starts off "I once met a girl from Ypsilanti." Its such an intriguing opening line that people will be hooked and have to know what happens next. Although what happens next really won't matter because the reader will have already fallen in love with this girl from Ypsilanti. She's probably beautiful, after all why else would you write a story about her? Maybe she's mysterious? Of course she is. She's more mysterious than a Tootsie Roll Tootsie pop. 200 licks? 400 licks? The world may never know. So why not start the story off "I once met a beautiful girl from Ypsilanti?" It's terrible. You practically gave away the whole story. And this beautiful girl, she sounds shallow. Why would I want to read about her? No. My story will start "I once met a girl from Ypsilanti." Her beauty is mesmerizing like Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany's. She's quirky in a Meg Ryan Sleepless in Seattle kind of way. She's slightly uneasy in her own skin, which is an odd saying if you think about it because who is going to feel comfortable in someone else's skin? Hannibal Lecter. Touche. Our relationship will be too complicated to put into words but will easily be told in hieroglyphics and hand gestures. The story will be passed on from generation to generation with minor details changing. Movies will be made but it will always be said that they didn't do the story justice. The greatest story ever told won't be a story at all. It'll be a sentence, about a girl I once met in Ypsilanti.