What’s the point in them, really? Are they like the appendix, don’t really doing anything and you don’t even notice them till they screw up? I’m sure they probably have a specific life saving function (kind of like the nose hair, which protects you from inhaling pollutants) that I am not aware. But right now, I hate them.
Going on a week now, my sinuses have been messed up. First, one side of my nose ran while the other nostril was stopped up. Then I began coughing, now, because of all the drainage, my throat is killing me. It’s been a slow, dreaded progression. Some days, I have woken up thinking I was completely better and then the next day, I wake up and can’t talk because my throat is so messed up.
The worse part, it’s not really that bad, it’s more annoying than anything. I really dislike this limbo stage. I wish it was really bad where I could stay home from work, get sympathy from LB, and have her bring me chicken noodle soup as I lay in bed and watch movies. Or, GET BETTER.
Instead, I am that guy at work that keeps sniffling and coughing, which I’m sure is getting on everyone’s nerves by now. Then at home, LB lacks compassion, because I’m not really sick, it’s just my sinuses. I think she thinks that my weak sinuses are sure signs that I am just a mere girly man.
These feeble sinuses are really hindering the half-marathon training too. I have to stop and catch my breath when I reach the top of the stairs, so I know running my scheduled 2.5mi is out of the question. Last Thursday, during the softball game, I hit what was sure to be a double. However, by the time I got to first I was too winded to go any further, I just quit running and stood on first base. Good thing we lost by 8 runs rather than 1, or might have felt bad.
I am going to slink back into my cubicle now and hope my muffled coughs and sniffs don’t make it over the 4 foot walls. Ok, everyone can feel sorry for me now.
I Hate Sinuses
Quick Wal-mart trip: NASTAY-ness Ensues
I had to make a quick Wal-mart run this afternoon for LB. When ever I make these trips, I try to get in and get out as quickly as possible. I head straight to the section that I need something from, make a B-line straight to the self-check out register, and head to the car. (Sometimes I stop and talk to the old man greeter with a cane because he is super nice, but if it is the old lady with a mole, I try to hasten my trip even more. She's mean.) It's like I am in a race with myself to see how little time I can spend in Wal-mart and on Mr. Walton's premises.
While there today, I noticed something very disturbing to me. There was a girl walking around the store in her bare feet. Barefooted in Wal-mart. I can see being barefoot in the comforts of one's own home, or at the pool or beach, or maybe even frolicking in the autumn mist, but Wal-mart? I do not understand.
How gross? About the only thing I could think of that would be worse, is if she went into the men's bathroom at Wal-mart. And who knows? She may have. She was just walking around as if nothing was abnormal, like I was the weird one for wearing these new fangled foot coverings.
I decided to lose the race with myself today and follow this girl around. She didn't appear to be in a hurry, but I wanted to tail her just to see if maybe she had just been involved in some tragic lawnmower incident and lost both shoes and she was at Wal-mart to purchase a new pair. After about 10min of my investigation that led me from the magazine section to the freezer aisle, and finally to CD's and DVD's, I lost interest. I passed the National Treasure 2 display and I was reminded that it was out. As I watched her from the corner of my eye, and read the back of the DVD case with the other. I lost her. I decided that there was no run-in with a John Deere and she was not there for shoes, so I didn't try to find her again.
Since the happenings from this afternoon, I have been trying to think of different scenarios that would lead me to go into Wal-mart shoeless. I have come up with only a few and they all involve the impending death of my wife or daughter. I know we are not supposed to negotiate with terrorists, but if someone from the Taliban had LB or Ada and said they would not give them back unless I went into Wal-mart and bought him contact solution without wearing shoes, I would do it.
However, we can conclude that this clearly wasn't the case for this Barefoot Contessa, as she slowly strolled the aisles without a care in the world. And, sadly, because of my botched investigation we may never know the reasons behind her apparent disregard for personal hygiene. Maybe Britney Spears is her idol and she was reenacting the scene at that public restroom not so long ago. If, in a couple of weeks, I see a lady shopping at Wal-mart with bare feet and a shaved head, I will report back...case closed.
A Man's Guide to Undershirts
One day last week as I was driving home from work listening to my usual sports talk radio station, one of the hosts began to make fun of one of the interns because he was wearing an undershirt under his polo. Yes, you read that correctly, he went on for about 5 minutes about how this young innocent intern had on a 100% white cotton undershirt underneath his polo shirt. I was amazed that he was serious. Granted this host hails from Philadelphia, but sir, if you are going to move down to the south and enjoy our sweet tea and eat our grits, you are going to have to abide by the undershirt rule as well.
He was calling it a “frat boy thing”. Au contraire my Yankee friend, I am about as far from frat boy as they come…I have never called another male cohort “Bra” nor have I ever done a keg stand, yet every morning that I get up, I routinely put on my trusty white undershirt without ever even thinking about it.
Until this errant co-host started spouting off like he knew what he was talking about when clearly he was in the wrong. This got me to thinking, is there a faction of men out there who don’t know the unwritten rule of the undershirt? Are there confused males out there who do not know that the undershirt is part of the 5 staples of men clothing attire? There must be, or surely this man would not be employed to speak his opinion as a career and be making fun of this individual who clearly did know what he was doing. Well, never fear men, I am here to provide you with a dummies guide to a man’s undershirt. Finally, the unwritten rules shall be written.
You don’t know where you are going if you don’t know where you started, so we’ll start at the beginning, with the previously mentioned 5 staples of the male wardrobe.
1. Pants –Includes jeans, khakis, or shorts. Above all, this is first and foremost on the list. A male can be seen in public without a shirt, but his pants are a requirement.
2. Shirts – Includes t-shirts, polos, or button-ups.
3. Shoes – Men should own 3 pairs of shoes, no more, no less – one pair of casual, one pair of dressy, and flip-flops
4. Undershirt – 100% white cotton, Hanes or Fruit of the Loom will do just fine. There is no need to waste you money on the Tommy Hilfiger or Polo brand undershirts. Undershirts are like all you can eat Chinese buffets, you are looking for quality for cheap, why pay more when you accomplish the same thing for less?
5. Boxers – Last on the list because these are not a requirement, preferred, but not a necessity. Also, please remember what your mom told you; always have on a clean pair because we don’t want the ER nurse cutting your clothes off of you to see that you have on holey underwear.
Sorry for the long introduction, but I had to make sure you understood the basics and knew where I was coming from. I have been rocking the undershirt since I was in about the 6th grade. That is about 11yrs of undershirt experience, so I consider myself somewhat of an expert. I have compiled a short list of five of the most important rules pertaining to undershirts that every male should know. I tried to condense it so anyone who desires can print it out and duct tape the list to the back of the closet door.
Without further a do:
Rule 1: Always, always, always wear an undershirt. No one wants to see your man hair sticking out of the top of your shirt. No matter how good you think it looks, it doesn’t…really, it doesn’t. I have also noticed that a lot of men who like to sport their chest patch for everyone’s viewing displeasure, also think a gold chain accents it nicely. Again, it doesn’t.
Rule 2: You can never err with the white undershirt. I have noticed more and more here recently, that a few explorative young males are venturing out with different colored undershirts. This is getting into a grey area. This color coordinating of the undershirt, suggests that maybe a little too much thought went into your attire for the day. This effectively turns what you are wearing into an “outfit” and “outfits” should be reserved to the women and children only.
Rule 3: Know when enough is enough. Just like all men have our favorite boxers, we will eventually develop a favorite undershirt. One that feels like silk from the many washings, one that molds to the folds of our man gut just perfectly, one that you know doesn’t do the annoying “undershirt becomes untucked, outer shirt still tucked causing everything to look all bunched up” thing. Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end, and eventually your prized undershirt will, no matter how great of a detergent you use, become yellow and will either have to be thrown away or used to wash your car. What do you think the guys from Coldplay were singing about? Obviously, one of the band members had just thrown away his favorite undershirt and penned this little number.
Rule 4: Know your size. The size of your undershirt can make all the difference in the world. Too big, and it results in the much dreaded bunches. Too small, and you feel constricted all night, leaving you self-conscience that your man gut is on display for the world to see. Another issue with it being too big, you have shreds of white cloth peeking from underneath the sleeves of your polo, resulting in a very sloppy look. However, when you are fitted with the appropriate size, you put your undershirt on and never think twice about it is, looking debonair all the while.
Rule 5: Actually an exception to rule #1 – When not to wear an undershirt. For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven (Ecc3:1), and this also includes a no undershirt season. I’m sorry if you do not agree with this rule, but as you can clearly see, it is Biblical, so no arguing it. There is only one time no undershirt is acceptable and that is when you are wearing your favorite t-shirt. As talked about on the site Stuff White People Like, your t-shirt must be tight-fitting, therefore deeming an undershirt virtually impossible. You would constantly be getting bunched up everywhere resulting in a very unpleasant evening.
I hope these 5 simple rules will be found useful to you.
I have one more, but not sure if it qualifies as a rule. If the 5 undershirt rules were laws, this would merely be a bill. A bill that never quite gets passed to become an official law, but is in the running year after year. The bill: A tank top, also affectionately known as a wife-beater, does not constitute as an undershirt. It fails to pass certain criteria that would rank it as a full fledge undershirt. The first and foremost cause of an undershirt is to cover the crass man patch that pokes out of the top the shirt. Due to the low cut neck of the tank top, we have failure number 1. The secondary job of the undershirt is to soak up excess sweat as to not offend co-workers or passer-byers, which leads to failure number 2 of the tank top. The tank top has way less material than your normal undershirt and, more importantly, no material at the sweatiest part of the body, the armpit. As you can see, the tank top clearly pales in comparison to that of the trusty white undershirt, so please save them for emergencies only.
If you have questions or need more clarification, please feel free to ask. Until next time, Men, keep rocking that undershirt proudly.
Author's note: Please check out my other man blog www.gotmanswers.blogspot.com. It is a joint adventure with fellow blogging friend Bull to try to inform the world of all things manly. Read his explanation of the site here.
Blog Resusicitation
I have been out of the blogging game for a while now, due to my newfound hobby of reading…that still just sounds weird. I think I have gotten out rhythm, which kind of scares me and should scare you too. I‘m very prone to not finishing certain things that I start, so you have reason to worry about the termination of the blog. I remember stating in one of the first few posts, hoping that the blog would not be one of those things. (Though, how do I finish a blog?)
Ok, I don’t plan on terminating the blog, but I know me, and it seems to be slipping into my delinquental pattern – start off with a boom, ride the wave for a while, then slowly start dropping off, until slowly but surely, it comes into a complete stop, sort of like the old Viper ride at Six Flags Over Georgia. If you will look at the archive numbers over on the right column, you’ll see the same patter: November 17 posts; December 13; January 10; February 8; March 9; April 9; and this will only be the 3rd post in May. This post is my attempt to resuscitate the blog.
I really don’t have anything at all worthwhile to say, this post is more for me than anything, to rejuvenate myself. I have mentioned several times how different LB and I are – she’s Stephan Urquelle and me, Steve Urkel – while writing/blogging is one thing we actually do have in common. Blogging and Ada, that’s about it. Though she is by far a more exceptional writer, I still try, just for that one connection with my wife.
Since I have no central theme or subject for this post, I thought I would just do a little stream of consciousness or maybe pick a few thoughts I’ve had throughout the past couple of weeks, just to get the juices flowing again. ………….
Last Wednesday, Georgia Gov. Sonny Perdue signed a law allowing Georgians who are licensed and registered to carry their concealed guns on public transportation, in restaurants, and in state parks. Now, I don’t have a license, or a registered gun…yet, but plan on it in the very near future. Along with one of those cool shoulder harnesses. Think how much quicker you could through the line at the Golden Corral. Ok, that was lame, see how out of sync I am? Or am I always that lame? ....Anyway, the shoulder harness thing would be cool and makes me want a handgun right now.
2 Random Facts about me: 1) I never buy the same type of deodorant twice in a row. I am scared my sweat glands to grow immune to a certain kind so I have a set rotation. 2) Everyday before I leave work, I go #1 whether I have to or not. I got stuck in traffic once and vowed to never make that mistake again.
Why do they even make 1ply toilet paper?
Something I have meant to mention for a while, the article proving the wussification of America. There is a school in Santa Monica that has banned the game of tag. It may seem trivial at first glance, but look deeper at the message this is sending to the kids. One of the reasons cited for the dismissal of this beloved childhood game was “Little kids were coming in saying they didn’t like it” Well, I didn’t like carrots when I was younger, but my mama still made me eat them, I don’t like to pay my bills, but that doesn’t stop Georgia Power from sending me the statement every month. The proponents of ridding tag also said that the kids were suffering both physical and emotional injuries and there were kids who weren’t feeling “good” about being it. To those who are complaining about being hurt from playing tag, they need it more than anyone. You need to be toughened up, life’s not always easy and you have to work through it sometimes. What would it be like if every one who wasn’t feeling good about something were just allowed to quit…i.e. I decided I don’t like the mortgage rate I got, so I don’t think I am going to pay it anymore. (Maybe a bad example with the current housing market.) Sports are a metaphor for life, a way to toughen kids up, to teach them the ropes, and that things are just not handed to you. You don’t quit something when you lose, you try harder so you will win next time. Get ready, in a few years it’s going to be America: the land of the free and home of the wussies. Ok, stepping down from my soapbox, this section went a little longer than anticipated, my bad.
Most ironic name in baseball: Angel Pagan of the New York Mets.
One more thing and I will call it quits for the day. The other day as I was cruising along the information superhighway and came across this blog (if you go, be ware, some of her material would probably be considered to have an R rating) http://www.dooce.com/. I am not quite sure how I got there, but while there, I was very intrigued. I continued to read, and discovered that this person, a mom and a wife, is what is a called a professional “mommy blogger”; she has even been on several TV shows, including The Today Show, to talk about her success. She is very witty and quite entertaining, and been blogging for about 8yrs. The key word in everything I just said is PROFESSIONAL. I know writers get paid to write books, newspapers, magazine articles, but she gets paid to blog and we are not talking chump change. She makes enough from advertisements on her site that both she and her husband have quit their jobs. I knew there were professionals that blog, but had no idea that there were professional bloggers. Amazing. For the record, if anybody has anything they want to advertise on this site, I am for sale.
Ok, I am calling it quits for the day. I think I have accomplished my goal of the post. I already have a few ideas clanking around, so expect a flurry of posts in the coming days, specifically one on the reason I never call Bezal, Beezy anymore. I have now switched it to Bezal, in case you didn’t notice.
Finally, the Businessman Special
There is mini blog hiatus going on. I have been, of all things, reading a lot here lately. I know....me reading, I guess that is what not having cable will do to a man. In the past couple of weeks, I have gotten my hands on a couple books by RC Sproul (The Truth of the Cross and What is Reformed Theology? Understanding the Basics) and I haven't been able to put them down. I am reading both simultaneously. I never read one book, much less two at a time, so you can imagine the shock my brain is going through right now. My new found hobby has resulted in a lack of blogging of late.I had to break up the hiatus to report the happening of this past Thursday. One of the things on my life's to do list just got checked off. It wasn't one of the major ones, like take LB to Europe or personally cause a Cici's buffet to shut down for the night, but it had been on the list since I moved to Atlanta a few years ago. I took off work for the day to attend a Braves businessman special and spent the whole day at the park. It was very much a success, I even got a couple of autographs.
The tickets were the Fresh Express season tickets (complete with parking pass) and were great seats. They were about 10 rows up behind the Braves dugout. I had a total of four, but only had one buddy joining me. My boy Bud drove up from Auburn Wednesday night to attend the festivities with me. It was good getting to hang with him for a while. Everybody needs a little more Bud in there life. So, we got to the stadium about 2.5hrs before the game started and I was walking around with $108 worth of extra tickets in my hand that I had to get rid of. I wasn't very sure what to do with the two extra, I'm not big on haggling with those guys that carry around cardboard signs that say "need tickets, got tickets"...something just doesnt seem right about that. Then, on the way in, I saw a dad and son walking around the plaza and decided to do my good deed for the day (since I was playing hooky from work) and give the extra tickets to this dad who decided to bring his son out for the game.Bud and I went on into the stadium and visited the museum, my second trip there in two weeks,
but Bud had never been. We hung out there for a while then decided to head on to our seats. It was perfect timing because when we were almost there we noticed Tim Hudson was out musing with fans and signing autographs. I was lucky enough to get a ball signed by Huddy himself.After hanging out with Hudson for a while and exchanging cell phone numbers (in case he ever needed someone to show him around McDonough), we finally headed to our seats. On the way, one of the Turner Field ushers, who take their job waaay to seriously, approached us and demanded to see our tickets. It was a very good feeling to be able to pull out the ticket and show him that we actually belonged there. That little episode went much different than usual. I usually get asked to see my ticket when I am trying to sneak down out of the nosebleeds, to get a little better seat. This was was one of the best highlights of the day.
A few minutes later a different father/son combo came and sat in the seats beside us. This was supposed to be the guy that I had given the tickets to earlier. I have to admit, it did bother me when I thought this dude had gone and sold these awesome seats that I tried to hook him and his son up with. Though I did take solace in the fact that at least it was another father and son. Then, the man struck up a conversation with us. Turns out, the guy that I had given the tickets to had given them to this guy because he and his son were in a group and couldn't take advantage of the opportunity. All was right with the world again, he had even tracked down another father and son to share the love. It made for another great highlight when I noticed the father lean down to his 5yr old son and say "How about theses seats? What a lucky day!"
I won't bore you with the details, but it ended up being a great game. The Braves won it on their last at bat with a walk off single by Matt Diaz. Their first win by 1 run all year, they were previously 0-9 in games decided by one run. It was a great game, great fellowship and great times. I'll finish up with a few more pictures I took at the game.
Notice how there are only 10rows of heads between the field and me
In honor of the Bravos sweeping their 6 game homestand.
How could I not put up a pic of the general, Bobby Cox?
NOTE: I changed the template because it kept messing up the spacing.
My Own X's
Quick post today, I am very busy at work.
LB mentioned on her blog that I am giving her a gift a day until this weekend. I have done this for her before, maybe for her birthday last year. No, Ada would have been a week old, I wouldn’t have had the time (or the energy), it must have been for our 1-year anniversary. Anyway, not important, I love giving gifts, so this is one of my favorite things to do for her.
SIDENOTE: Notice in the last paragraph I didn’t call LB, Beezy? I made a very startling discovery the other day that has encouraged me to forever refrain from calling LB that again. I will explain later when time permits. If anyone already knew this, I am not very happy with you right now for not calling it to my attention sooner.
Back to the gifts, well, having a mortgage and one income has caused me to have to be very creative with thinking of something to give her each day without breaking the budget. One of my gifts this go round was a commitment, the commitment to run the ½ marathon with her in October. I think this will be her favorite out of everything all week…I should have saved it for last.
So, I have printed off a training sheet of my very own to hang on the fridge beside hers. Now, like his and her towels in the bathroom, we have his and her running schedules on the fridge. Last night, I got to mark my first X off the sheet. The whole time I was running I was thinking what have I gotten myself into. It’s hard to imagine me running 13miles when only 1.5 miles is not a walk in the park.
I’m not sure if I have mentioned this before, but I hate running, HATE IT. I do, however, recognize that is a problem that the only time I run now is to the bathroom during commercial breaks, so the commitment has been made, to LB and to myself. Alas, last night's run was the first of many many more to come, so here’s to me getting over it, sucking it up, and pushing through…all for a little X in a box on the fridge.
Weekly Reminder – Tonight is the best night of television all week, so don’t forget The Office at 9 and LOST at 10. Enjoy!
And, since today is The National Day of Pray, please pray that I don’t take a line drive to the face or to the shins in tonight’s softball games. I would hate to mess this pretty face up right before a weekend away with my lovely wife and a line drive to the shins would just hurt.
