The Greatest Father's Day

I don't know that I'm the greatest father in the world, but I'll bet there weren't many men who had a better Father's Day than I had... and if that's any indication, I guess I am up near the top of the list. Now, on the family side I didn't get to see my dad, but I did call him. And the place from where I ordered his present sent it to me instead of him. But I did get to speak with daddy over the phone and may get to see him this weekend. Overall Rating: Good.

My son is currently in Texas tearing up the skies and links with flight lessons and golf outings. He's doing very well with his flying and shot a 3 over par at Tangle Ridge. Although I didn't get to see him, he called me twice on Sunday. Overall Rating: Great.

My daughter didn't bother to call me, but I'm getting used to that. Her mother is quite a piece of work. Overall Rating: Sucky, but expected.

My step-son gave me a gift, a card, and called me 'dad.' He had spent the weekend helping his grandfather recover from surgery. Overall Rating: Excellent.

Of course, my wife has excellent taste in men... that's why she's my wife. She's beautiful, talented, witty, sensual, and a few things gentlemen don't mention in public. A loving caring woman. I got to spend Father's Day with her. Overall Rating: Perfect.

While I'm not overly materialistic (which fits right in with my budget), who doesn't like an occasional gift? The family got me several things that will be greatly enjoyed, including the new(ish) Jeff Bridges flick about the country singer, as well as Jekyll and Hyde... Together Again, a favorite from the days of my youth. Overall Rating: Reminiscent.

I also received 14 new cigars. This is a batch that Benita hand-picked for me. I've burned one of them so far... a Rocky Patel 1961. Tightly rolled, heavy and woody, an excellent smoke by any standard, but especially fitting of the tight standards of RP. I will enjoy the additional 1961 as much, as well as the other 12. My humidor is happy; therefore, I am happy. Overall Rating: Smokin'.

As I'm enjoying a nice smoke I like to have a little tottie. Nothing crazy, mind you. I stick with the old rule of thumb: Every thing in moderation. Because of this Benita went to purchase me a bottle of Jack Daniels, a rare treat. As many of you know Benita is not a drinker, so she was feeling rather self-conscious standing in line at the package store with a bottle of Jack Daniels and a 20 oz. bottle of Mountain Dew (she does imbibe the most extreme Dew). Suddenly, while minding her own business, a construction worker-looking guy finished paying for his 80 cases of beer, leered over at Benita with a fistful of dollars, and asked, "Mind if I pay fer that fer ya, little lady?" Benita thought for a split second and agreed. He paid for the Dew and Jack, and as she was walking out another guy asked the construction worker, "Hey, you wanna pay fer my beer?" "If you looked like she does I would." Benita got in her car and drove off, while the construction worker joined his friend in their truck and they pulled out the other way. Cheers to you, big guy! You helped make my Father's Day just that much better. Overall rating: Thrifty.

To top it all off I finally got the speedometer working in our 1946 Plymouth. I'll get an update about that on the Plymouth blog (link to the right) in the next few days. Overall Rating: Accomplished.

I defy you to find someone who had a better Father's Day than me.

PUT A TIGER IN YOUR ----

Even as Tiger is planning his phoenix-like return to golf, new reports on his storied affairs are coming out. I think we're up to 147 mistresses. This guy must be going for some kind of record, though Wilt Chamberlain reportedly told him during one of his sex addiction classes that the key is to not keep going back to the same ones. I have to admit, though, I am impressed: I'm married to just one woman and do not engage in any extramarital activities, yet I can't even seem to find the time to slip in one round of golf every few months. This guy plays all the time! What time management. Franklin-Covey needs to be sponsoring this guy.

I want to share a little conversation I had with my wife this morning. She called to inform me that a porn star has come forward concerning her two-year affair with... well... everyone, but Tiger Woods specifically. (I told my wife she would have already known this if she got all of her celebrity news from South Park like me.) I think I know why Tiger had all these affairs. Hell, every man knows why - not that we'd do it, mind you. But we know why. Women are pouring themselves at your feet like a rock star, Tiger: you felt wanted and got addicted to that feeling. The Manly Power that comes with sleeping with lots of women. Could happen to anyone... except Ryan Seacrest.

But at some point shouldn't it become clear that they're not attracted to you, but to your position, Tiger? Sure, you worked hard to become the greatest golfer in the world and deserve a little reward (some might suggest a Scandinavian model-wife and a gazillion dollars to be a fairly bountiful reward, but to each his own). And, yes, a cocktail waitress, stewardess, exotic dancer, and perfume counter attendant can all theoretically be impressed by your raw sexual Axe Effect... and the fact that you can afford to tip over 15%. But a wallered out porn star? Dude, you ain't that great. Without the wallet and hat you look kinda goofy; you were up with Elin, waaay up. But with this porn star didn't at some point you stop and think, "Man... maybe she's faking it?" I mean, c'mon... you're no Jesse James.*

My wife said that if she were Elin she would divorce him and set him on fire. I joked, "Yeah, like 'Your honor, I was just setting the gas can on top of the canopy bed and it accidentally went off.'" Benita, my wife and a God-fearing, loving individual, replied:

No, my defense would be: But your Honor, he asked me to put the sleeping pills in his dinner then tie him up in the bed, pour hot wax in his throat and nostrils, set him on fire, chop him up into little pieces, and send those pieces to each of his lovers with a note that read: "Now you have a piece of Tiger, but I have all the money."

I got an invitation in the mail to hang out in Tiger's VIP lounge at the Masters. I think I'll stay home.



* I had to add this; got it in an email from my wife, referring to Jesse James:
"Hmmmm, he needs to be tied to the back of a motorcycle and dragged over spikes and nails, then through a pool of alcohol, then through a pit of scorpions (drive through this and the alcohol area slowly for the full effect). After that, his tats should be skinned off of his body with a dull knife and hot glued across the tat model's face and neck......then peeled back off with her skin until both are just bloody stumps of their former selves.....sounds good to me!"

WHAT'S IN A NAME?

The BabyCenter has released their list of the Top Baby Names of 2009 and the results are nothing short of miraculous.  A quick glance will reveal that the most popular names are Biblical in nature, but closer analysis will reveal a leap of epic proportions:

After only three newborns being named 'Edward' in 2008 (barely squeezing out 'Ebeneezer'), the name has jumped to #226 on the popularity list for 2009.

How could a name jump from obscurity - truly the twilight of its relevance - to lionization if you will, in such a short amount of time?  What could have happened in the past year to cast a new moon on a name like Edward?  Who is responsible for this transformation?

Well, I think the answer is obvious: This Blog.

Occasionally, my popularity amazes even me.  "GO TEAM EDWARD!!!"  I hear women shouting that all the time.  Thank you, all of you, for the support.  And MERRY CHRISTMAS!

DANNY SHOWED ME...

He was working at Tractor Supply Co. when I went in for some M-T-G. Danny was vociferous and enthusiastic. He was animated, almost invading. His address of each customer was cordial, but loud. Almost shouting. And the smile on his face and in his voice was genuine.

Danny obviously had Down's Syndrome. He stood behind the counter rocking from foot to foot. The regular cashier was standing behind him because, even though he knew most of the movements, Danny didn't always remember which button to push or when. And although he was very difficult to understand, he insisted on carrying on a running dialog with each and every customer. (As I walked out the door he was making an announcement on the exterior speaker system, with his assistant following up to make sure the request was understood.)

I left with a smile on my face. The same smile that remained on Danny's face as he turned from the mic to help the next customer. I thought about how Danny made sure to speak to every customer, and about how many times I have been through a store for 45 minutes or more and gone through the checkout line without a single person speaking to me... or making an effort myself to speak to anyone else.  I thought about how much Danny enjoyed scanning the products and reading out the prices, about how mundane the job must be and how so many other people become disinterested in their own jobs, me included.

For just an instant I began to think about the issues Danny has to face in every facet of life due to his affliction. But that thought transformed into something else when I realized that Danny wasn't wasting time doing that. So I began thinking about my own set of issues. I work for a company in the construction industry. Times are tough. With the downturn of the economy I've watched our income dwindle down to just a fraction of our expenses. Every two weeks I sweat about how I'm going to be able to pay our guys. Then about whether I'm going to be able to pay myself. My job has been reduced to juggling creditors and trying to keep the lights on. I'm no fool... it can't last long like this.

My boss pointed out to me that he dreaded coming into the office of late. It seems he didn't want to see my face because I wore on it the only kind of news I've had for him: bad. I didn't bother to tell him that I've felt the same about avoiding him. Surely things will turn around soon, we fool ourselves. Actually, we're hurting because of the bursting of the so-called housing bubble. We both know that the commercial construction bubble is still yet to fail. So, while barely treading water, we're going to have to redirect the entire company.

The holidays are always a bit stressful: traveling to see family, organizing everything that needs to be organized, decorating everything that needs to be decorated, and gifting everyone who needs to be gifteed. I have to deal with my ex-wife on the kids' holiday visits, which is always a nightmare. And this year the extended family is getting together, which means we've got to scrounge the gift money for a slew of additional children. And if that weren't enough, the only reason I met Danny is that one of my horses has rain rot. That's why I needed the M-T-G.

But, hey!  I have horses. Sure, one is sickly and has problems, but he's a sweetheart. And the two mares... well, while they aren't exactly sweet, they are stout. I live on a beautiful piece of property that most could only dream about. I have a great extended family, one that I will get to visit this holiday season. And my wife's family will be coming to us. No illnesses or losses in either family for quite some time. My daughter will be joining the rest of us for the entire Christmas break.  I'm in excellent health and couldn't ask for a more loving home life.

Sure, there are problems at work. We're going through quite a tough time. But I have a job. I've watched competitors, clients, and vendors go out of business all around us. We may may just be treading water, but we're here. And I'm most thankful for that. There are many out there - about 17% of the population - that won't have a job this Christmas. When I look at it, my life is pretty darn rich right now.

I have no intention of turning this into a political diatribe, and those who are close to me know that I'm not completely sold on Sarah Palin as the savior of Conservatism. For that matter, I put no faith in any politicians.  I just don't trust their motives. And from the spiritual side, I am one that believes in coincidences. But it struck me that on the very day I met Danny I read an article about Sarah Palin's book tour bringing out the pro-lifers because she was touring with Trig, her son that was diagnosed with Down's Syndrome. I don't think he was diagnosed before birth, but I do know he wasn't planned.

I don't know that that has anything to do with me. But I can tell you this: If you see me acting a little differently at work. If I'm stepping a little higher, and smiling a little brighter. If my head and morale are higher. If my outlook has shifted over into the positive column. Don't be alarmed. I'm not on drugs. I haven't checked out of reality. And my lottery ticket is still worthless. All that's happened is that I've been shown just how life should be approached, how valuable it is, and how glad I should be to have mine.

Danny showed me.

TIGER LOSES A STRIPE

Accenture has stepped forward as the first major sponsor to drop Tiger Woods over 'Voice Mail Gate.' The corporate consultancy company has recognized that Tiger's current public image might not be the greatest tool for convincing other businesses to trust Accenture's judgment.  It also questions for marketing professionals the wisdom of hanging an entire company's public image on one character. It seems like this question may have been answered in the past.

Still, Tiger doesn't seem to be too worried. Although his life has been thrown asunder over his extra-marital affairs, and other large sponsors are sure to follow Accenture's lead, he is as confident as ever. Already he has reportedly been contacted by Blackberry for a new ad campaign:

Straight from the Tiger's lips

"Why leave a voice message, when a text is so much more deniable?"

A TIME TO KILL...

...this morning before we head out into the mad world of Christmas shoppers.  So, I thought I'd sit down with a cup of coffee and get my mind off the upcoming insanity with a quick update.

"Is that a putter in your pocket, or are you just glad to see me?"

A strange week indeed in the world of golf: Tiger Woods has been voted out of the neighborhood while John Daly has been voted back in.  Who woulda thunk it?

Daly has apparently cleaned up his personal life, recommitted himself to stylish clothing, is considering writing another book, and wants to do a movie about his life. And after recently shedding 115 pounds, Daly stated that he envisions Matt Damon taking the lead role.

Drew Carey could not be reached for comment.

Tiger Woods has announced he will be taking an indefinite leave from professional golf and his Tiger Woods Foundation. So far none of his sponsors have openly dropped him in light of the 467 women who have come forward claiming to be his 19th Hole, but have stated there have been "thoughtful conversations" about what happens next. Expect him to be entering a 'sexual addiction' clinic any day.

Since it is not included in the list to the left:

What is the difference between Tiger Woods and Santa Claus?

Santa quit after three ho's.

THE DADDY DIARIES

Several of my friends and family have had babies of late, and they've all been scrambling for information... or at least confirmation that their child is normal and their parenting skills are adequate. Women have a slew of resources out there, from new mommy books to old mommies themselves. But guys? Not so many sources. You can seek parenting advice from your friends, but that's probably not a very good idea.

You can turn to a family member, like an uncle... but again, that's probably not a very good idea.

In recent years a new alternative has popped up: Daddy Boot Camps. In these "boot camps" coaches and/or experienced dads teach daddies-to-be the finer points of being a dad, like how to swaddle, how to change diapers, how to burp, and how to bathe infants. I'm against these. Not because they don't provide good advice - I wouldn't know; I did it the hard way - but because I'm cheap. Why pay good money for someone to teach what comes somewhat naturally to most folks?

Still, there are questions, but fear not... I have answers.

THE DADDY DIARIES

As a guy who's been there and done that... twice, I want to pass on to my fellow man-dads out there the knowledge I gained going through it all. Most of the information here is nothing more than you will observe on your own, but perhaps it will give you confidence in those moments you find yourself wondering just what the hell is going on and what in the hell you did to get yourself where you are.

Childbirth is usually not that difficult for the dad-in-waiting, so I really just have one piece of advice. If you are in the delivery room (which I recommend), when you hear the word 'episiotomy' (which you will), turn the other way (which I highly recommend).

In caring for infants there are really only two things a father needs to know: if it's a boy, wipe up; if it's a girl, wipe down. That's pretty much it. For all other needs just listen to the kid's mother. Mothers can tell the difference between a 'hungry cry' and a 'pain cry' - or so they claim. It's neither here nor there. As long as you do what the mother says you likely won't get blamed if the baby becomes gangrenous or emaciated. And in the end that's all we can hope for: not that our child will turn out normal (which it won't), but that we won't get blamed if it turns out weird (which it will).

Once you get your newborn home you will notice that it seemingly has no control over its head or limbs, doesn't react to the sound of your voice, and takes absolutely no interest in your existence. Don't be alarmed... this is perfectly normal. This stage of development will end when your child is about 1 month old... then start again at the age of 13 years.

Be gentle with your newborn, but not obsessively so. It is a well-known fact that babies are made of rubber. That being said, they don't make very good basketballs. Try not to drop them too often.

When food is consumed by an adult there are two ways it can come back out of the body, and 99.99% of the time you know which way that will be. Be warned that that rule is suspended for babies: there are no less than six different ways, including the tear ducts, that food - at any stage of digestion - can come back out of a baby. This can happen at any time and without warning. Usually, though, there will be a lag time after each occurrence, so the best time to hold your new child is immediately after it pukes on your sister.

Babies ooze. Even when they aren't spitting up or pooping their diapers, an endless supply of unidentifiable goo leaks out of every baby orifice. This is another good reason not to be in the presence of a baby without its mother. Let her clean it... she is equipped to handle the situation. Be forewarned, though: close your eyes! This woman - the one who turned out the lights and placed a box of Wet Wipes next to the bed when the two of you were making said baby - this woman will reach over with her bare hand and scoop viscous liquids off your baby's nostril without so much of a pause. If you want to look into her eyes and feel the desire to hold her close, close your eyes when the baby starts oozing.

Babies sleep, you don't. It kills me when I see brand new parents get googly eyed over how cute their sleeping baby is. Give it a few weeks. That's no sleeping baby... it's a stick of dynamite. When you coax the little buggar off to neverland, all you are doing is lighting the fuse. You lie down in bed and try to count sheep, but the whole time you're thinking:

How long will it be? Will I get to sleep an hour? Four hours? Dare I dream! No! Two hours. Yes, two hours will do. Please, Lord, put the baby in a coma... for two hours. That's it. I just need a little rest. I can't feel my feet and the backs of my ears are burning. What was that? Oh, God, is that the baby??!! No, just the wind. Please, Lord, don't let it wake up. Why did we have to have a baby? What were we thinking!! No, no, I love the baby. She's so sweet. Please, Lord, make it sleep...

You're going to be overwhelmed with the desire to take pictures of your baby from the second it leaves the hospital. That is okay. You may take all of the photos that were taken of you when you were a child. Being held. Sleeping. Rocking. Bathing. Spread-eagled on the changing table (thanks, daddy). Click until your heart's content. Then stop. After about three months you need to put the camera away. Everyone else will have lost interest in even seeing your baby, so you should've lost interest in taking photographs of it by then. If you don't believe me look back at your baby photos. Go on, look. There isn't a single one from after those first hairs popped out on your head until those first teeth started falling out of your mouth, is there? That's the way it is supposed to be, so put away the iPhone and stop updating junior's Facebook page.

You will notice, sooner rather than later, that you will begin to hate your baby. Do not be alarmed. This is again perfectly normal. Men in general do not mix well with babies. We envision teaching a child to track, shoot, and kill. We dream of being the mentor who shows the tyke how to change out a carburetor on a '69 Camaro. How to use a bow and arrow, make a pair of stilts, and go ice fishing (even if it's a girl). Babies can't do any of that, so don't feel bad about not liking it. All they can do is wobble around like a rag doll, which is exactly what your wife wanted when she decided to have a baby. She will care for it, feed it, and make sure it doesn't poke itself in the face with a lawnmower. In a few years that baby will be old enough for you to begin teaching it all those things you wanted to pass on... which is about the time your wife will have lost interest in it altogether. Ah, the circle of life is a beautiful thing.

Relationship Advice

I know there is no shortage of relationship advice out there and with good reason, what with all of the complicated relationships in this brave new world of ours. There is, for instance, the relationship our country is experiencing with its new president, the relationship we as owners have with our brand (not so) new car maker, and the relationship that said car maker has with it’s new 31-year old, totally inexperienced boss, appointed by the aforementioned president. But alas, the subtitle of this blog is Nothing Too Serious, so I’m going to avoid presenting my opinion of this nation’s latest foray into nationalization. Yea, I’m going to stick to relationships that are none too serious: those between husbands and wives. Good, light reading.

My relationship with Benita is in many ways typical of those between husbands and wives. I am male, she is female. We both have jobs outside the home. She takes care of most of the work inside the house, while I try to keep up with most of the demands of our property. Where we can, we help one another in each of those respective fields. I’m not above washing dishes and I have photos of her shoveling horse poop. I really do. Overall we do what has to be done. We fill those traditional roles rather… well… traditionally. Sounds about like yours, does it not men?

Let me tell you something about our relationship that is likely different than that that you enjoy with your wife: I am the man of our relationship, and not only does my wife know that, she respects it. And I don’t mean that she knows better than to run the vacuum while the football game’s on. She respects that I am the man of the house. I’m the source of strength and confidence, I am the guardian, I carry the big stick, and I reign over my castle. Does your wife accept this about you? Have you given her reason to?

The reason my wife looks up to me as the Man of the relationship is that she is confident in my goals as the Man of the relationship; I do not rule by fear, threats, or intimidation. The power I hold in my household is surrendered voluntarily because my wife knows deep down that my objective in this world is to provide for and worship her. This is the payment I make for her recognizing in me that which is deserving of her love. Sometimes, and very likely far too often, I fail to tell her this, and I slip in my efforts to demonstrate it to her, but I keep up well enough for her to know it. Beyond the traditional efforts, I try to do the unexpected, even when she sees it coming. How well do you do this for your wife? Have you given her reason to surrender her respect to you?

Those of you who are very close to me… don’t know much about what has happened during our first year of marriage. Those of you close to Benita probably know a good bit about it. Suffice to say we have had a challenge-filled time of it. I dare say that if we had both been 22 years old and new to the marriage game we likely would not have made it. As it is we made it through quite well, like two old trail horses. (I’m going to get it for that analogy. That’s okay. I’ll take it like a man.) Our marriage today is as strong at every level as it was last July 4th, and much stronger in many ways. So, as I am a man, I was quite alarmed when Benita told me she wanted to do The Love Dare.

The Love Dare, as featured in the movie Fireproof (click on the ad to the right to get a copy of either – and go ahead and click on that Google Ad for 1-hour UL rated fire doors, as well – you can’t put a price on safety), is a book concerned with repairing broken or failing relationships by urging one partner to start doing things for the other to prove his/her love. It’s all right there in the movie. And yes, it’s the man that is the bigger jerk, and the woman kinda gets off light. This is what went through my head, anyway, because I’m a man. We men tend to think that if everything is seemingly going well in a relationship there is no need to go in and start fixing things. The engine in our 1969 Camaro - which is made up of hundreds of moving parts – can be purring like a kitten with a bellyful of milk, but the first rainy Saturday we’re going in and start yanking things out to replace the cam. Meanwhile, the relationship we have with our wife – which is made up of only two moving parts – has to blow a gasket or just run out of gas before we start considering any kind of tune-up. We expect it to just keep puttering on down the road without so much as an oil change or refueling.

So we’re on Day Six of The Love Dare, and I tell you guys, it’s going great. Doing these things is not just for “saving” a wrecked relationship… it can reinvigorate one that is in a rut, or just add a new dimension to an already strong relationship. Don’t be afraid of your woman’s desire to engage in these activities. It may be difficult for we men to approach them with gusto, but I bet you’ll find they’re not so bad once you give them a chance. And let me tell you, they are a whole lot more fun when you are doing them at a solid point in your union than when you are trying to salvage what is left of a rotten situation. I’ve done both, and the problem with the latter is that one party is probably not going to follow through with as much commitment. And this can make it discouraging or even hopeless.

Do yourself a big favor and take ten minutes right now to sit and think. Ask yourself these questions:

Is my marriage everything it used to be?
Is my marriage everything it could be?
Do I know my wife’s expectations from our relationship?
Have I done anything recently to earn her respect?
Do I provide for and worship my wife?
Is my marriage fun?

If the answer to any of these is anything except ‘Yes,’ if you feel the need to include a ‘but’ in any of them, or if ‘No’ crossed your mind even fleetingly, your relationship is not where it was meant to be. But don’t worry, it’s not too late to revive it, to reinvigorate it. What has to happen is that both moving parts begin working together, tuning and timing and trying. And keep in mind that laughter is the best fuel for a happy relationship.

I don’t mean for this to be an advertisement for The Love Dare or any other relationship product. All I’m saying is that we men don’t have to be scared or intimidated about participating. Sharing one of these with your wife is a good way to learn more about the person she is today, and a few new things about yourself. You’ll also get some good ideas about those unexpected ways to show you love her. And what’s more, these programs themselves are good examples of things you can do to show your feelings for her. Let’s go back to that hotrod: why do we switch cams, jet carbs, and tinker constantly? To make it more powerful, faster, and more fun. Think of these relationship exercises as after market parts for your relationship. Pop the hood and tinker around. Make it more fun, faster, and more powerful. You can never have too much of those, can you? You’ll find yourself smiling a lot more often, like you did when you were googly-eyed every time you held her hand. If you go into it with the goal of discovering new ways to worship the woman you fell in love with so long ago, you might be surprised what she surrenders to you in return.



On a totally unrelated note, for those of you in the Forestdale/Adamsville area my wife and I will be joining another couple (Chris & Heidi Barnette) in presenting The 5 Sex Needs of Men and Women, a 12-week long course by Dr. Gary and Barbara Rosberg, beginning this Sunday night, June 7, 2009, at 5:30 PM at Westwood Baptist Church. It is free so this is not an advertisement. I’m not teaching this class because I think I know everything about men and women… I’m helping present it as part of my constant search for advice and knowledge. Don’t expect your wife to attend these alone to learn new ways to turn you on. While it is a class for anyone, single or married, husbands need to attend with their wives. I’ll give you a free tip right now, men:

If you haven’t earned her respect outside the bedroom, there is nothing you can do to earn her respect inside it.

Life on the Farm

Recently I’ve had cause to wax nostalgic about those little virtual pets from the 1990’s. Do you remember them? They were about the size of one of those rubber squeeze coin purses, with a couple of microscopic buttons and a key ring: the ubiquitous companion to 8-year old girls everywhere. They were created in Japan where living space is too limited for anything more than a pet octopus. I never understood why they caught on here in America where I can’t get my kids to feed our real dog on what could be considered a humanely frequent basis. For that matter, I can’t figure out what an 8-year old needs with a keychain, either.

Some of you may be wondering what stimulus could cause me to flash back to those now obscure Happy Meal treats. Others of you will know exactly why they popped into my head. Farm Town. I’m watching my wife play it right now while talking to her eldest on the phone. Yes, a grown woman torn between the emotional needs of that which sprang forth from her own womb and a plot of digital grapes. Allow me to fill any non-Facebookers in on Farm Town.

Facebook, the online community phenom, offers numerous activities you can join your friends in, from racing games to mafia hits to Farm Town. To be honest, I haven’t played any of them. Not because they’re inane wastes of time, but because I’m a very anti-social curmudgeon… I mean, because they’re too complicated for me. But of these none has permeated my world like Farm Town. Everyone in the house is abuzz about it. The wife is talking about “checking the farm,” the boys are glued to the computer screen 25-hours a day… even the dog is playing, although I suspect she just likes looking at the pictures.

Apparently, what you do is accept an invitation from a friend to start your own farm, get plants given to you by these friends, grow the plants on your virtual farm, harvest the crops, sell them, buy more plants and land, accumulate digital farmhouses that will be the envy of all of your virtual friends, and… well, think about it all the time. And that’s the hook that makes it different from other games. If you plant, for instance, grapes, you have to come back online in four hours and harvest them or they die. Plant a fruit tree and it may take a couple of days. I don’t know if you have to feed the goats, but I would if I had crops nearby. My wife has actually given her password to a friend so that said friend can harvest her crops while she is at work! (I’m sure 5 or 6 friends will now be mad that they weren’t chosen as the surrogate harvester.) Does all of this sound familiar? Tamagotchi pets.

To point out the insanity I turned to my wife the other night (we were in our office: I, trying to think of something to fill my next blog; she, harvesting virtual pomegranates) and said, “Honey, do you remember those stupid little virtual pets the girls used to play with back in the 90’s?” Her response, and I quote:

They were very stupid, but look… I can buy fences!

Now, please note that my wife is an exceedingly intelligent woman. Her job is complex and turbulent, yet she wades through it like a neap tide. She is conversant on any number of subjects. She is a very talented photographer. She reads books that have no pictures in them whatsoever. But she is addicted to Farm Town. She says she’s not (“I can quit any time I want”), but I know denial when I hear it (“You think I’m addicted? Look at this girl’s farm. That’s a grain silo, for crying out loud!”).

But hey, what’s a little fun now and then? She did point out that I like to waste time and money hunting animals when there’s plenty of meat at the grocery store. And do I really need to waste time writing a blog when everyone else in the world already has one (http://ultimatetoiletblog.blogspot.com/2008/03/marcos-way-of-rating-toilets.html)? And what about the garden out back with all the weeds in it? The real garden. The one that produces real food. The one with real weeds. I turn to suggest to her that we spend some quality time together by going outside and weeding our garden, but thought better of it as I heard her shout:

I’ve got to get control of these chickens!

For Every Action There is an Equal and Opposite Reaction

You’ve heard this rule-of-thumb all of your life. Actually, I think it’s a law in some jurisdictions, but here in Alabama it’s more of a convention. But rule-of-thumb, law, convention, have you ever really considered its meaning? I thought I had, but as of recently, I’m not so sure.

I’m a lover of movies. I have the large flat-screen TV, home theatre receiver, self-installed surround sound speaker system, the DVD player, and the perfectly arranged furniture. I’ve got about 100 DVDs and possibly another 200 VHS tapes. My collection runs the entire spectrum of motion pictures, from comedies to parodies, from horror to comedy-horror, from westerns to western-comedy, to a few Hal Needham films. Quite simply, I love movies; however, that statement is soon to be put to the test, and the closer the day gets, the more I realize I may just be a lover of certain movies.

My wife has been very good at sitting down and watching movies with me. She likes westerns and loves John Wayne, so it was no great stretch to get her to watch the likes of Big Jake or Open Range. And since she already liked The Outlaw Josey Wales, Unforgiven was a given. She’s even watched my favorite: Lonesome Dove - all 6 hours and 12 minutes of it, although we did break it up over three days.

And I have to tip my hat at her for sitting through more ‘guy-esque’ movies such as The Big Lebowski, Kingpin, and Fight Club (there was a lot of eye covering during the bloodiest scenes, but that’s okay). She watched Bubba Ho Tep and Army of Darkness, and yet still caught over half of my Monty Python collection. Overall she’s been quite a trooper, though she wasn’t able to make it past the opening sequence of what is possibly the most ‘guy’ movie in history, Apocalypse Now – Redux.

One Good Turn Deserves Another

The list above shouldn’t surprise anyone: I’m a man. I don’t apologize for that fact, or that I like guy movies. But having said that, I’m no Archie Bunker, either. That means that I also watch movies of my wife’s choosing. One good turn, right? The first one she picked for me to watch was The Thin Man. And hey, as a former private eye and (current) social tipster I find it difficult not to like Nick Charles. In fact, I now reach for one of the series as often as she does.

I logged quite a few hours watching Christmas films with the wife this last holiday season, although many of those hours were A Christmas Story and Christmas Vacation, so I don’t know how much credit I actually accumulated. I did watch one that starred Linda Hamilton as a German woman playing Christmas Eve-host to twin squads of Nazi soldiers and American G.I.’s. It was touching and I watched all of it. (I do have to admit, though, that I was waiting through the whole movie for a robot Santa to crash through the wall and lay waste to everyone… but still I watched mostly quietly.) And to boot I’ve made it through something starring Kate Winslet. But now the ultimate test is coming…

This weekend my wife is insisting I sit down and watch a marathon of movies from The Hallmark Channel. Every married man in the world should know exactly what I’m talking about when I mention this channel. Murder, She Wrote. The Golden Girls. 7th Heaven. And the movies. The many, many movies.

If the Word 'Love' is in the Title, it Probably Wasn’t Made With A Man In Mind

This one is where I’m really in trouble. I don’t think there’s a movie on The Hallmark Channel that doesn’t have ‘love’ in the title. Love on the Prairie. Love Whispers Softly. Love Rides a Wagon. Love Floats on the Breeze. I’m screwed. I just don’t think I can make it through a movie with the word ‘love’ in the title unless, perhaps, it’s something like Death Loves a Gun.

Always the supportive wife, Benita has pointed out to me that the co-executive producer of my favorite movie of all time, Robert Halmi, Jr., also produces 99% of The Hallmark Channel movies. I’m sure she told me that to give me hope that I will like Love on the Plains as much as I do High Plains Drifter, but it mostly just depressed me. It’s like finding out that the same God that created The Andes also created Andy Dick.

I know you are all saying that I should just shut-up and watch the ‘love’ movies this weekend. After all, didn’t Benita watch all of Lonesome Dove? Yeah, I guess so… but it’s not like she watched it all straight through. I may as well accept the fact that I’m going to have to watch these movies with my wife. So ladies, sit your husbands down and make them watch these movies, too. After all, misery loves company.



Blogquest: What is the ultimate 'guy' movie? What movie represents the quintessence of the 'chick flick'? Should men and women try to watch each others' favorite movies/television shows? Where should the lines be drawn for each?