Nerdy or Not Nerdy?

Today was the company picnic. I entered the Dunk Tank contest as a thrower. We throw from 30 feet away at a target smaller than a dinner plate.

1st shot: near miss.
2nd shot: DING! Bullseye! HIT THE CENTER BOLT that bolts the target on the arm.

I win a prize.

The prize I choose? A Rubik's Cube.

So, does the nerdiness of a Rubik's Cube overtake the jock-iness of pinpoint accuracy?

It's your call America. Nerdy or Not Nerdy?

The 5 Worst Candy Bars

If you think that all candy bars are great, you're wrong. Sorry Charlie.

I've probably spent nearly $1000 over my lifetime buying junk food out of vending machines and I'll tell you the worst and the best. $1000! It's amazing I'm not fatter than I already am!

I digress. They have to be a real candy bar, that is, having a bar shape, or else Milk Duds would top the list. M&M's Rice, you should be thankful too. If not for the bar shape pre-requisite you'd be here too.

Now...the worst candy bars.

5) Almond Joy - More like "Almond well, I guess things could be worse"

4) Milky Way - Chocoloate: good. Caramel: good. Nougat: good. Chocolate + Caramel + Nougat: not so much.

3) Baby Ruth - Caddyshack ruined it. Not even the Goonies can bring it back.

2) Mounds - Chocolate and coconut. COCONUT. It's like they didn't even try.

1) Bit O Honey - My Grandma gave me this once. You trust Grandma. Shame on you Grandma.

The Fearsome Sith Lord

Luke is infatuated with Star Wars ever since he watched the 1977 original with uncle Jer-Bear. Tonight he put on his Batman and Robin raincoat and grabbed his pool toy sword and came downstairs

I'm Dark Vader.

Funny, I always pictured the most celebrated villian of all time a little more menacing.

Information Security Week

So on Sunday, we're leaving Poppy and Nana's. Like most Sundays, Bek and I drove our own car. I take Mary to the the van (aka Rebekah's car), and since Rebekah is lagging behind a bit, carrying the rest of the stuff, I decide to turn on the car and get the AC going so Mary doesn't roast in the car.

Once Bek comes out, I start to remove my keys. "Just leave them in there and use my keys for your car," she suggests.

"No. I better not. I have the key to my desk at work on this keychain. If I don't take them now, I'll forget and take your keys to work tomorrow and be locked out of my desk."

So out come my keys, in go Rebekah's and we're on our merry way.

The I arrive at work Monday morning and get ready to open the drawers to my desk. I have my keys, but the key to my desk is missing anyway, having fallen off the cheap key ring I used to connect it to the main keychain.

So, ironically enough, I'm still locked out of my desk, despite my attempt no to.

Even more ironic is that, Monday marked the beginning of Information Security week. The week where we re-emphasize safeguarding our data, by say, keeping track of the keys to your desk.

Update: I found my key in my pants pocket at home Monday night.

The Kiwi Conspiracy

I was getting dressed for work this morning...tying my shoes when, "SNAP!" my shoelace breaks. I was already ready to walk out the door - except for my shoes. No way I'm changing pants and my shirt to match a different pair of dress shoes - not at this point.

I did what any reasonable man would do and re-fit the laces so they could still tie a bow knot and went to work. I planned on getting new laces on my lunch break.

At lunch, I went to Target to buy the laces. They were easily found and just $1.79. Fair price...or so I thought.

I don't know if you have bought shoelaces recently, but I have, and done it twice. I've become aware this is the biggest ripoff in free-market capitalism. I don't know of any other company that makes shoelaces. Kiwi is your only choice. They have monopolized shoelaces. What kind of sick bastards set out to monopolize shoelaces?

Anyway, back to the story...

And what do you get for your $1.79? Two pairs of laces. Now I like a good bargain and getting two-for-one is usually a good deal. But just how often do shoelaces break? Really? I will have long grown tired of seeing a spare pair of brown dress laces cluttering my clutter drawer to wait for them to become useful again. They will be thrown out after 8-12 months of non-use. And I'll forget I even had a spare pair at the time when I need them again.

So essentially I pay double what I need to pay.

And it's not as if there is any reasonable explanation to pack 4 brown dress laces in one package is there? Say I had a shoelace fetish and wanted two pair. If they were packaged at 1-pair per pack, couldn't I buy two packs? For the common sense man who wants just one pair of laces - he's out of luck.

This is just another example of how the corporate big shots stick it to the workin' man. Shame on you Kiwi. Shame on you.

Scratching a 10-year itch

When it comes to battles of passive-aggressive comments, I don't measure up. It's not as though I'm unable to grasp the concept, it's just my wife has a lot more ammunition than I. You see, I mess up. A lot. Wife comes home with a new haircut...I don't notice. Housework that needs done...it can wait. It's like I lay my own minefield.

But I got my shot and I didn't waste it.

We were packing for St. Louis two weeks ago and Rebekah was in charge of...well, everything...(see, I told you I give her a lot of ammo), so she was in charge of packing the cocktail of meds. "I've got Advil, Tylenol, ... , but I couldn't find the Zantac."

I moved the Aleve, and there, in plain sight, the Zantac.

It was just a little opening, but I nailed it!

"You have to move things."

Mission accomplished.

The Mighty Dinos

I decided to coach my 3-year-old's soccer team, The Mighty Dinos, this spring. No prob. It's a simple game. No hands.


Kids love to run. Kids love to kick. Kids love to run and kick. Kids should LOVE soccer.


They don't. In fact, they would rather do just about everything besides play soccer.


Some enjoy standing. Take my son for example. When the whistle blew to start our very first game, he yawned - nothing exciting here. In fact, he pulled his arms and head inside his jersey, then ran around like a chicken with its head and wings cut off.


Others enjoy eating. Halftime is snack time. One of my boys refuses to play until he finishes all his halftime snacks. If I put him on the field he'll soon disappear and I'll find him on the sideline with his parents, cheeks packed with grapes. Then there was the time one of my kids brought his apple slice onto the field. Knowing it's a choking danger, I took it from him and gave it to his dad on the sideline to finish later. Big mistake. You'd have thought I had told him the Wonder Pets couldn't save Santa. There were huge tears, screaming, no more soccer for him that day, he was done.

But best of all, through 3-year-old soccer, I've gotten a creator's view of the beginning of the universe. At each kickoff, I have 5 little persons assembled in tight quarters. I call this phenomenon "Matter." Then something happens - it could be a whistle, or a kick, but something happens and these 5 particles all shoot off in different directions at the speed of light. I call each kickoff "the Big Bang."

Some form into some sort of ordered particles that chase the ball, most form into unordered chaos, that I must get out of the woods, detangle from soccer nets, or off the fence.

If you want to coach 3-year-old soccer you must be a master motivator and have the patience of Job. A rudimentary knowledge of astro-physics wouldn't hurt either.

Go Mighty Dinos!