New Years Schmu Years...

#newyearsschmuyears #bobblog; #randomthoughts

 

 

Happy New Year! 

 

The New Year holiday is very cathartic.  It’s arrival tends to give those in need that glimmer of hope that with a tick of the clock…with a Seacrest supervised ball drop, they are given a fresh slate to improve their lives and start a fresh…new…more successful year!   Spoiler alert…it’s just another day, people!  But, and this is a Kardashian sized but…the great news is, that with every frickin breath you take, that clean slate is right there…right in front of you.  You don’t need Anderson Cooper and Kathy Griffin ringing in a new year to change your fate.  In fact, you don’t need Anderson Cooper and Kathy Griffin for anything…ever.   If you want to make changes in your life, improve things, or keep riding the wave you’re on, you can start doing that right…now…now…or even…now.  You don’t need to wait for a new year.  Every day people do amazing things all over the world.  Some things impact many, some impact few, but these things are going on EVERY DAY.  If it takes a new year to get you motivated to improve things, that’s cool.  But don’t WAIT for a new year to improve things.  And don’t fool yourself into thinking that a date change is going to facilitate the “change” you are looking for.  That’s on you.  If change is what you’re after, I recommend setting some goals and keeping track of how you’re doing. 

 

So here’s to a great 2015 and achieving all the things you wish to achieve.  And if you choose to wait until June 12^th at 7:43 p.m. to get started, that’s ok.   

Fitbit...I think not.

#fitbit   #bobblog  #randomthoughts

 

Have you seen those Fitbit things?  They go on your wrist and they track pretty much everything you do.  How many steps you take, how you sleep, etc.  I was thinking about getting one.  Kind of hoping a Hawthorne effect would kick in.  If I was aware of how many steps I took, how active I was, then maybe it would push me to be more active.  Anyway, I starting thinking about it and decided maybe I wasn’t worthy of the Fitbit.  I mean, how are other Fitbit wearers going to feel when they see me standing around drinking a beer and smoking a cigarette with my Fitbit on my wrist.  I don’t want to be looked down on like the pregnant lady at the bar.  This isn’t my first insecurity when it comes to fitness.  The main reason I’ve never joined a gym is because I’m not in shape.  Yeah, that’s right.  I feel like I’m not fit enough to join a gym.  I don’t want to be the guy who gets off the bench press machine…wipes it down… and then watches the women who took my place move the peg to a higher weight as she gazes at me with a look of judgment and pity, kind of like I was a homeless man and she’s not quite sure if it’s due to me being unfortunate or lazy.  So for now I will continue to do baby workouts at my house and I’ll be sans Fitbit.  Maybe I should invent the Unfitbit.  It could track my inactivity, how much wine I drink, and how many cigarettes I smoke.  That shit would def scare me straight.  Hell, I’d probably join a gym!!  Happy Tuesday peeps. 

Are those jeans dirty???

#arethosejeansdirty   #bobblog   #randomthoughts

This morning I caught myself “half” throwing a pair of jeans in the hamper. I pitched my shirt and socks in but then draped the pants over the side of the basket. It was like I couldn’t fully commit to letting them go. I find I stage my clothes more often than I should and I blame my poor upbringing. Poor as in “Why did you throw that bath towel in the laundry!? You’ve only used it for three weeks! And save that bathwater for your sister” poor. I mean we were green before green was green. So a pair of jeans that’s only been on for a couple hours may make it back in the closet (don’t judge me!), a shirt may find a home on the chair while I contemplate it’s next move and a pair of jeans that may be your last clean ones…the hamper hang. Here’s to a modest upbringing, keeping it green and stinky clothes.

Take a breath and enjoy...

#takeabreath   #bobblog   #randomthoughts

Ok. So here’s the deal. We all know that the next few days are going to be more hectic than an A.D.D. party at Chucky Cheese’s. We all put a ton of pressure on ourselves to create the perfect xmas. We all have a thousand places to go, presents to give and all that other bs. So in all the craziness please don’t lose sight of what it’s all about. This is where you insert what it’s all about to you. Could be the gifts, the food or little baby Jesus. For me, it’s all about spending time with the people I love. So regardless of what it’s all about to you, just make sure at some point you take even a couple of minutes to step back, consciously think about it and soak it all up. Happy Christmas FB peeps. Hope you all have a great one!

Did you get it...

#didyougetit    #bobblog   #randomthoughts

I was watching a tv show about a kidnapping. The kidnapper called in (as always) and the cops "didn't get" the trace (as always).  But here's my question, in this day and age can we really not get a trace or is this just something the screenwriters are holding on to because it makes for a good plot?

I can use my smartphone to buy a pair of shoes, record the kidnapping tv show, and post a video while listening to the Jay Z song I just downloaded off of iTunes, but a room full of FBI agents with state of the art equipment can't run a trace on a phone call??  Star 69 for phuks sake.  I feel like we are being duped. 

Chocolatier...oh you fancy, huh.

#chocolatier   #bobblog    #randomthoughts

Chocolatier.  I love that word.  Say it with me...chocolatier.  Now that's one fancy way of saying "I make candy".  So what do you do for work?  "Well, my good man, I earn my keep as a right fine chocolatier."  Chocolatier...sommelier...sous chef...I wish I had a cool word like that for selling produce.  Happy Monday.  Now go visit your local chocolatier and start working on that holiday food baby!

Man bag...I think yes.

#manbag;  #bobblog;  #randomthoughts

I’ve always made fun of the man-bag (For my sick friends, not what you’re thinking. But while we’re on topic, why is this fragile equipment on the outside of our bodies.  Major design flaw.  Thinking maybe we could have tucked this safely inside.  Maybe behind the appendix. Better yet, replace the appendix, we don’t need it. Ok, back to my original thought.) and even worse the dreaded fanny pack.  But the reality is, if I’m being honest, I would carry a purse if it was socially acceptable.  I was never a boy scout but I do like being prepared.  Now I’m not talking about carrying around a box of Band-Aids and a rape whistle.  I’m talking more like being prepared to facility a party if and when it breaks out.  Core items would have to include my iPod (and I’m talking my old school pod that has 14k songs on it because nothing kills a party like not being able to play that special requested song…); portable speaker; bottle/wine opener; hacky sack (haven’t played since my fourth period hockey days but I do love that game); back up lip balm (because supple lips are the building blocks of a good day); iPhone charger (because I’m all Joaquin Phoenix with my phone); cigarettes (because I’m a social smoker and you never know when it’s time to be social); my old man cheater glasses (let’s just leave that one alone); GUM GUM GUM!; one tampon (so the important women in my life know I have their back…don’t judge me…I have a two daughters and grew up with three sisters); two pairs of sunglasses (because sunglasses are a core fashion accessory); deodorant/after shave lotion/Jan Marini face protection/tooth brush/B & B hair gel…I could go on.  Bottom line, I have a lot of stuff I could carry around.  I think I’d need to go with a large Hobo bag…Gucci…no…make it Prada. 

Smoking lady...

#smokinglady   #bobblog   #randomthoughts

Every morning on my way to work I pass a smoking lady (a women smoking, not “smokin’ hot”…she may be, idk, more on that later) on her porch above the Mexican restaurant.  It’s dark so I see mostly a silhouette, but I see her every morning.  When I see Smoking Lady, without fail, I wonder what’s her story.  Is she young?  Old?  What does she do for a living? Why does she smoke so much?  Is she stressed out?  Why do I assume she smokes a lot?  Maybe she’s a one and done each morning.  Does she have breakfast before she smokes?  Or maybe the cigarette IS her breakfast.  Does she go to work smelling of smoke?  Do her co-workers talk about the way she smells?  I’m assuming no on both of these because she goes outside to smoke so she’s making an effort to avoid the smoky smell.  How did she come to live above the Mexican restaurant?  Does she like it?  Does her apartment smell like a chimichanga?  I’m not judging, we all have our vices.  If I lived above a Mexican restaurant I’d be on my porch drinking margaritas…and probably smoking too.  Oh well, here’s to you Smoking Lady!  You are shrouded in mystery, a dark coat and a cloud a smoke but your mere presence gives my brain a daily jumpstart.  Happy Wednesday!

Think circular...

#thinkcircular;   #bobblog;  #randomthoughts

This is my Lion King post.  Think circular.  Most things in life are cyclical.  Weather, fashion, financial markets.  Almost everything comes back full circle.  So why is it that we get in the rut of thinking linear.  Linear thinking is depressing.  "I want this to happen.  It didn't.  The end.  Bummer."  That's no good!  Think circular.  Endings, good or bad, offer you a chance to start over.  Starting over can be refreshing.  Plan-execute-evaluate-learn-revise plan.  Keep it positive.  Keep it circular.  Keep it rolling forward.

Down the wrong pipe...

#downthewrongpipe  #bobblog  #randomthoughts

Do you ever choke on your own spit?

One minute you are sitting there happy as a clam and an instant later due to some kind of body glitch you get a little spit down the old wind hole and spend the next 5 minutes of your life coughing, choking and holding up a finger nodding your cherry red face in an effort to tell your friends you're ok as they gaze at you with their little judgey faces. 

It usually happens to me at really awkward moments like during a biz meeting or when someone is making a presentation.  This really makes it awkward because it's not like you were eating lunch and pulling a Momma Cass.  You were just sitting there...quietly...and then it hits and there is nowhere to hide!

People always say "oh, something went down the wrong pipe".  I have to admit, I'm more than a little confused by this.  How many pipes do we have?  How does your body know which one to use?  I think I need to do some pipe research.   

Sock Tissue

#socktissue   #bobblog  #randomthoughts


Can someone please explain the purpose of the little tissues they stick in the tops of a new pair of socks.  It's kind of like the appendix of the sock world...

And speaking of socks, do you ever pull on a sock and it doesn't quite go on just right.  It's a little twisted, a little off.  And no matter how much you fidget with it, you can't get it right.  It just feels awkward.  It's kind of like working with Saran Wrap, you only get one shot to make it work and if you don't get it right on the first try you're screwed.  If this happens to you, my advice is to pull off the uncooperative sock and pull on a fresh new pair.  Life is a pretty short ride so make sure it's a comfortable one. 

We've got an app for that...

#wevegotanappforthat  #bobblog  #randomthoughts


I'm not going to lie, when it comes to a women's vajayjay, I'm really ignorant.  Talk about a box of chocolates, there's a lot of stuff going on down there.  I've tried on occasion to take a look at the biology of it all, but it's kind of like studying accounting for me.  My eyes glaze over and it sounds like it's being explained by Charlie Brown's parents. 

The problem for me is it's just too complicated, like an over crowded strip mall with a bunch of stores that don't go together.  I mean, we have pleasure centers, waste disposal, child care, it's crazy. 

Thankfully things are pretty straight forward for men.  We put everything on the outside to make sure there's no confusion.  A real engineer would have put our balls on the inside for sure.  That was either a Monday morning decision or a cruel joke.  But yeah, it does help eliminate confusion and gives us boys something to fidget with.  Heck we even call them "balls" because you can never have enough sports analogies.

So I grow older each day and continue to embrace my naivety of the female sexual organs.  I like the mystery.  Kind of like a small scale Indian Jones who's not really sure what lies beyond the shroud of the cave entrance.  There is talk of elaborate passageways and coveted g spots...it's fun. 

In today's society there is a real lack of mystery.  When I look at how my kids are growing up compared to the way I grew up, I get a little sad.  When I grew up it was a big deal if one of your buddies got his hands on a second hand Playboy.  Today kids can Google "Amish brother sex" on their iPhone and get a hit.  Probably explains that whole ignorance thing on my part, but in some cases ignorance can be a good thing.  Today, we are WAY overexposed....to everything!  Information is powerful but there are still some things that would be better left alone.  Let's all try to hold on to a little innocence.

$7.4 BILLION, now that's scary...

#nowthatsscary   #bobblog   #randomthoughts

American's will spend $7.4 BILLION on Halloween this year.  $7.4 BILLION.  I phuking LOVE America.  We have our priorities in order and we know how to have a good time!

Men will dress like women, women will dress like tramps (Hey, I'm just calling it like I see it. "What are you?"  "I'm a sexy nurse".  Sexy nurse?  Really?  When's the last time you saw a sexy nurse when there wasn't smarmy 70's guitar music playing in the background. I'm not saying sexy nurses don't exist. I'm just saying you have better odds of running across the elusive spotted white leopard than the sexy nurse.) and kids..awe, who gives a shit about the kids, this has turned into an adult holiday!   Don't believe me?  Adults will spend $1.4 billion on costumes this year versus $1.1 billion on kids costumes.  And this year Halloween is on a Friday...forghetaboutit! 

Speaking of things I'd like to forget about.  American's are expected to spend $350 million on costumes for their pets.  To put this in perspective, the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge raised $100 million.  Yeah, we have our priorities in order all right.  But hey, you can't say Mr. Kibbles doesn't look adorbs in his Frozen outfit. 

Now here's something I can get behind.  We will spend $2.5 billion on candy for Halloween this year.  Notice I said "we" this time.  I totally support any candy spending any time of the year.  And the best part is holiday marketing leads to after holiday discounts.  I once filled a shopping cart with conversation hearts on February 19th.  Best day of my life...OF MY LIFE!

So whether you are the girl whoring it up as a sexy nurse or the crabby old bastard riding it out in your empty house with the lights off, I hope you get your $7.4 billion dollars worth.  And just think, in a couple weeks we can start spending our money on Thanksgiving celebrations!!!

I don't snore...

#idon'tsnore  #bobblog  #randomthoughts


If you find me dead in bed...it was my wife!

Although I'm definitely on the back nine of life, I still try.  I work out a little.  And by "work out" I mean lift some baby weights (It's all about reps, man); do a little running on the treadmill (Actually it's more like acting. I mean if I lessened the bounce in my step and quit moving my arms, I'm pretty sure I could walk at the same pace but "running" two miles sounds a lot edgier than "walking" two miles); and take the occasional bike ride (Though I think this shouldn't really count. Based on the folks I see riding on the bike trail, it doesn't look like it's working. Or maybe they are just using the trail as a back way to get to Culver's.  And what's up with those people on the recumbent bikes.  It's like a big middle finger to the people who think they are working out.  "Look at me, bitch. I just passed you up and I'm laying down. Hahahaha".  

Anyway, although it's up for interpretation, I do work out a little.  I try to stay somewhat fashion forward (In the Midwest, this just means that you haven't incorporated your sweatpants into your "goin' out" wardrobe).  And I try to stay relevant to pop culture.  But when I fall asleep, things go downhill fast. 

Word on the street is that I have some serious issues in the snoring department.  And over the years I have somehow worked a few different methods of snoring into my repertoire.  Like the basic chainsaw method was getting stale so I mix in the geyser once in a while. 

What I'm finding out, is that over the years, this little idiosyncrasy has gone from palatable to what seems to be a burning hatred in my wife's belly.  Much like the path of a triggered serial killer, my wife's remedies for my snoring have started to escalate and do so at a rapid rate. 

Last Fall her approach was very passive.  She bought me Breathe Right strips to wear at night.  Those worked for a while but like a stubborn strain of influenza, my body became immune to the strips and we were back at square one.  Maybe a can wear the rest of them on my power runs!

When the strips quit working she went to the wiggle method.  She would convulse her body in bed like she was having some type of epileptic seizure, in hopes that this would disrupt my sleep and cause me to roll over and stop the madness for a bit.  If her wiggling didn't do the trick, she would wiggle my pillow.  Fairly effective...for a while.

In the last two weeks, shit has gotten real.  Things are no longer passive.  There have been punches in the face with pillows.  There have been "alleged" slaps to the face and head (she vehemently denies these attacks, but I know what's up) and most recently there was an incident that can only be described as an attempt to smother me with my own stinky pillow (Yeah, kind of stinky.  I think it's a drooling problem because I can't breath so good out of my nose. But that's a whole different set of night problems). 

So anyway, I'm not sure how this adventure is going to end.  But I want to go on the record and say, if they report that "he passed peacefully in his own bed, what a great way to go", chances are there was a struggle and you will find some of my wife's DNA under my fingernails.  But I don't want to press charges.  I owe her some solid nights of rest. 

It's an acquired taste...

#acquiredtaste   #bobblog  #randomthoughts

Have you ever noticed that a lot of the things that are bad for us are an "acquired taste".  This means that as a society, we are really going out of our way to be unhealthy. 

Beer, cigarettes, bourbon, coffee.  I'm guessing the first time you tried any of these things you weren't too sold on them.  Walk into any bar and watch folks take shots of cheap tequila.  They're licking salt, squeezing limes, anything to try and make this crap palatable.  But it doesn't matter if it's your first shot or your fifth, you cannot "acquire" a taste for cheap tequila...but let's keep trying, yes?

Most kids are disgusted by black coffee but just wait a few seconds and grandma will doctor it up with a half cup of cream and a load of sugar.  Now try it Bobby.  What do you think...good?  You betcha.  Now fast forward thirty years and little Bobby has weaned himself off the milk and sugar and he's mainlining a pot of black coffee a day into his already phuked up system.  Thanks grandma, you're the best.   

We've been smoking since 5000 BC.  This means that we've always been crazy.  Who in there right mind would think it's a good idea to breath in smoke.  And don't get me started on all the asshats who sue the tobacco companies because the tobacco companies didn't warn them that breathing in a pack of cigarettes a day for 40 years was bad for them.  There's a name for this folks, it's called natural selection. 

Reality is, our food and beverage department is really starting to fall behind.  I think it's time to pool some resources and see if we can't come up with some new ideas.  I mean, I can Google the history of blue cheese on my iPhone but I'm still sprinkling the moldy shit on my salad.  Doesn't seem right.

But I guess, for people like me, it's a good thing that all this bad shit is an "acquired taste".  Because I do a pretty good job of fighting through obstacles to consume my fair share of coffee, cigarettes, booze and blue cheese...

Christopher Columbus You Phuker

#bobblog   #columbusyouphuker  #randomthoughts

When I was a kid, Christopher Columbus was pretty cool.  Hell, he discovered America!  This guy threw caution to the wind, hopped in a ship and took off to find "America".  I think he landed somewhere around Boston. We had a nice little poem about him and his three ships that helped me pass the Columbus exam.  Oh, and we got a day off school to celebrate!  What's not to love.

Well, much like the use of seatbelts, the mosquito fogger and the "just be home before the streetlight comes on" rule, times have changed.  In recent years some ugly truths about Columbus have surfaced so I thought it may be time to dig in a little and see what all the fuss is about. 

What I've learned is a few things. 

One, everything I thought I knew about Columbus is a web of lies!  I blame the unfortunate combination of a low IQ and public schooling.  Finding out the truth hurts.  It's a deep hurt.  Like a Milli Vanilli lip sync scandal hurt...girl, you know it's true.  Oh, and I'm sure I am the only person in America who didn't know the ugly truths but just in case here's a quick rundown.  His real name is Cristoforo Columbo; he was looking for Japan; he never stepped foot on any of the 50 states; and he obviously didn't "discover" anything.  He basically went on vacation to the Bahamas. 

Two, Christopher Columbus was a douche bag.  Martin Alonso, the captain of the Pinta, was the first to see land and fired a signal to note his discovery.  Later, Columbus maintained that he had already seen a light on the land a few hours earlier...yeah, that's the ticket...I saw...I saw a light...yeah...like 2 hours ago...I just didn't want to wake anyone up.  And on top of being a liar, he was a very nasty man.  A recently discovered report by Francisco de Bobadilla alleges that Columbus regularly used torture and mutilation to govern.  It says he that he punished a man for stealing corn by cutting off his ears and nose and then sold him into slavery.  The report also says he paraded the dismembered bodies of uncooperative natives in the streets.  Sounds like it would have been a better fit for him to have "discovered" the Middle East.  In all fairness, there are some who feel that the facts of Francisco's report may not be entirely accurate, given that the end game was Francisco put Columbus and his bros in jail and took over his job.  But here's what we do know about Columbus.  He took made natives accompany him back from his first trip to "prove" he found the new world; he enslaved natives; he gave a Bahaman women to his friend who in turn beat her with a rope until she allowed him to rape her.  So yeah, we have that. 

Three, It's time to make a change!  Currently 23 states and Washington D.C. recognize Columbus Day as a holiday.  Why?   Why are we honoring this idiot with a holiday?   I'll ask the same question I ask every four years when I see the primary's, is this really the best we can come up with?  I mean come on people, there is some pretty amazing shit going on every day.  We can come up with someone more worthy.  If not, America loves a reason to party, so let's just change it from the second Monday in October to the second Friday, call it Octoberfest and let's all drink some beer and toast the Natives in the Caribbean who had to put up with that phuker. 

Whistle while you spit

Happy Monday...or is it...

Karen Carpenter would have not been happy this morning, but I was in a pretty good mood for someone driving into work at 6 a.m. on a dark, rainy Monday.  I had my travel coffee, little heat going and some music.  Everything was going great until, while whistling along to a song I spit on myself.  Now I'm not talking, I went to whistle and sprayed a little.  I'm talking, I was in a full out whistle and for some inexplicable reason, I had a breach in the lip area and a full out pool of drool dripped onto the front of my shirt. 

With his one, seemingly insignificant, involuntary act, shit got real.  It was like a party ender.  One second the music was blaring and I was jumping around with a shot of tequila hoisted in the air and the next second, the cops were at the door.

When you drool on yourself at 6 a.m. and you are not drunk and/or sleeping, it's a cold water in the face moment that quickly reminded me that I'm old and stupid. 

On the surface, drooling on myself was bad.  But if we do a deeper dive...well...things get worse.  For starters I was tuned into First Wave and got really excited when the 31 year old song 99 Red Balloons by Nena came on.  Excited to the point that I turned it up and may or may not have played some air keyboards...  Nothing old about that.  Now let's shift gears a little and take a look at the fact that I was whistling along with the song.  Whistling!  What am I Bing Crosby.  Who whistles anymore.  I must have looked like Farris Bueller's dad in that scene when he's driving and Farris is trying to beat him back to the house. 

So yeah, I'm that guy now.  Not sure when exactly I jumped the shark but at some point I officially reached old, stupid man status.  The bad news is, I think this happened a long time ago.  The good news is, it must have been a gradual transition because for a while now, I have been very content whistling along to some sweet 80's tunes while making fun of the "old people". 

So as I approach the balance of this rainy Monday I'd like to think I do so a wiser man.  I realize that before I judge others, not only will I put myself in their shoes, but I may want to check and make sure I'm not already wearing them.  I also realize that old people do funny shit.  I mean drooling on yourself while trying to whistle along to a song is comedy gold.  Sure it's a little more physical comedy while I've always leaned toward cerebral but heck, Jerry Lewis did alright with it. 

Sugar and Spice...

#bobblog  #randomthoughts  #sugarandspice

Little boys are made of frogs and snails and puppy-dog's tails.  Little girls are made of sugar and spice and everything nice. 

Seems pretty simple.  The basic take away is that boys are nasty little animals and girls are sweet.  It has been my general experience that Robert Southey's 19th Century take on the sexes still holds true.

However, I think it's time we add a little meat to this thing.  You know, fill in some blanks about the girls.  Unfortunately guys, our part really doesn't need any enhancement.  We are a very simple species and this basic summary of us pretty much says all that needs to be said. 

I am pretty deep into my fourth decade of trying to figure out girls.  I grew up with three sisters, have two daughters and have eight nieces so I have some real life experience.  Also, I have put in some work on the subject.  I've watched The Notebook, read 50 Shades and take the occasional Cosmo survey, all in hopes of getting just a glimpse into the inner workings of the oh so complicated women's mind.  Because, as a man, understanding the difference between the way a women thinks and the way a man thinks makes all the difference in the world.

So here's my take.  Both men and women think a lot.  They both have a lot of shit bouncing around in their heads 24 hours a day.  But that's where the similarities end.  Best I can tell there are two major differences between men and women's minds.

The first major difference is in "what" we think about.  Men's thoughts fall into three primary groups:  sports; sex; and how do I not piss off my significant other.  That's pretty much all that's bouncing around that head at any given time.  Now the detail of those thoughts can be great.  I may be thinking "I wonder if I paint the family room on Saturday if Kim will let me go to Hooters to watch the football game on Sunday...I think she'd be ok with that, right." But yeah, not a whole lot more going on there.  Now women (this is only my hypothesis) are thinking about everything else in the entire world other than those three things.  I know this sounds extreme, but I really think that most women are literally trying to think about everything.  And they are not only trying to think about everything for themselves, they are trying to think about everything for everyone else.  If a women has a husband and two kids, she's thinking for four.  I know this.  Why else would I look at my wife when the waiter is taking my order and say "do I like the cannelloni here?"  So when you sit at the dinner table with your wife and you are thinking "she looks kind of tired, we better go to bed by 9:45 or I won't have any chance tonight...did I record the Blues game...", know that she is thinking "I feel kind of tired, I better fall asleep by 9:30 because I am not up for his stupid shit tonight...did I make Johnny's dentist appointment...what am I going to wear to that shower on Sunday...oh shit, Suzie is going to be there...I better pick her up a bday card because I know Samantha will...damn, she'll probably give her a candle or something...she's such a bitch...when am I going to have time to go get a phuking candle..."  

The second difference is in "how" we think about things.  A man's mind operates like a medic on D-Day.  Chaotic, lots of bouncing around, temporary fixes, just trying to get through the battle and get to a point where everyone seems happy.  Where a women's mind operates with the precision of a neurosurgeon.  Women are trying to get things DONE.  They are worrying about long term problems and they are working on long term solutions.  If this means they have to go to bed unhappy and lay there still thinking...well, then that's what it's going to take.

This brings me to one last thought...and what a surprise...it's about sex!  Ha.  Guys, what we just discussed is what you are up against.  It's not that she doesn't want to have sex...it's that she doesn't have time for sex.  Sure, back in the day when she was thinking for one, things we're a little easier.  But now there's a lot going on in that head.  You have to put in time to try and get her to free up about 10% of that mind for you to conduct your business.  And even if she's saying "yes...YES", don't fool yourself into thinking she's not assembling a grocery list on the other side of her head. 

Chances are 90% of what I think I've learned about women is wrong...but I will continue my quest!

The Persistent Squirrel

The Persistent Squirrel

#persistentsquirrel  #randomthoughts #blogschmog

Over the past few weeks I have seen the same squirrel on my morning drive to work. It’s not like he has any distinguishing marks or he’s waving to me or anything, but he’s just in the same spot at the same time every morning. It’s like we’re on the same schedule.

What’s interesting about this squirrel is that his morning routine consists of trying to dig in the middle of the paved street. Every morning he is in the middle of the road digging around a small crack in the pavement. He very focused; to the point that you have to slow down to give him time to realize you are coming. He’ll scamper out of harm’s way and then quickly return to the task at hand once your car has cleared the work zone. All I can assume is that this little guy thinks there’s a nut in this area under the pavement. Not sure if his squirrel buddies are phucking with him; if he’s just a little slow; or maybe he’s pursuing a family squirrel legacy about the prized nut great grandpa buried before they developed Goshen Road; but whatever the reason, this guy is dedicated. 

The more I think about my squirrel friend, the more I realize he and I aren’t that different. We both get up at the crack of dawn, strap on the work boots and put our shoulder to the wheel with the hopes of bringing home the big prize. Many days I feel like I’m digging in pavement and I know that for every car that slows down for me there are three more that are trying to run over me. So if you’re still with me, (you have to much free time and you need to get your ass out in the street and start digging for your nut.) I’ll bring it full circle. We can learn a lot from this squirrel. Life isn’t easy. Rarely are things handed to you. If you want to succeed you need to be prepared to dig in pavement, to dodge the dangerous traffic and put blind trust in working your ass off for that intangible dream nut. 

The last few days I haven’t seen my squirrel friend. Sure, this could mean that he got flattened by the short, pudgy woman who can’t see over the dash of her Escalade, but I’d like to think it’s because all of his work finally paid off and he got that nut. Here’s to you, you little nut gobbler.

Paper or Plastic

Paper or Plastic

#paperorplastic  #blogschmog  #randomthoughts  #bobblog

Paper or plastic?  I’ve probably been asked that 1500 times or so and my answer is always the same… "plastic’s fine”. “Plastic’s fine”…when I say it, it’s like I know plastic is NOT fine but I’m kind of shifting the blame onto the bagger.  Like, “hey…if that’s what you have to do then I guess I’ll put up with it.  I mean, it sure wouldn’t be MY choice but if plastic is what you’re pushing, then I guess it’s “fine”.  Really, you’re only giving me two choices here and I can’t lie, I really don’t know if paper is a good choice or a bad choice.  Next to plastic it sounds like it would be a more environmentally acceptable choice but then I think, they’re killing trees to make the paper, so is that really a good choice?  Kill a tree or pick a plastic bag that I’ll see stuck in a tree on I-55 as I fly past the ever growing pile of rubbish buried North of Fairmont city.  Nothing says welcome to Illinois like 250 feet of trash.

So yeah, plastic’s fine…plastic’s…I really don’t think that’s even a word but that’s the way I say it…plastic’s. 

Yeah and please use as many plastic bags as you can.  That six pack with the easy carry handle…bag that shit…on second thought, double bag that shit, we don’t want it to break!  Yeah, I bought deodorant on my grocery trip, put that in its own bag.  We don’t want any grocery/HBA cross contamination. 

Now I’m not the greenest guy in town but how about we put a pile of recyclable bags at the end of the checkout and offer folks paper, plastic or recyclable bags for an extra $5.  I know I may be the exception but I would def pay the extra for the recyclable bags.  In fact I’d probably pay it over and over because I’d forget to bring them in on the next trip and I’d be too lazy to walk 50 yards to the car to get them.  So the store would make a little more money, there would be one less plastic bag in the tree where Fairmont golf course used to be, the checkout boy would feel better as I wouldn’t push the “plastic’s fine” guilt on him and I’d feel better about my bag choice.  Win-win-win-win.

Not The Brightest Bulb...

Not The Brightest Bulb...

#notthebrightestbulb  #blogschmog  #randomthoughts #bobblog

Have you bought light bulbs lately?  This used to be a quick, easy, mundane task.  Not anymore.  On a recent trip to Home Depot I stopped by the light bulb section to pick up a few bulbs.  The “section” is now an entire aisle.  After walking up and down the aisle a few times I realized this was not going to be a simple, visual purchase; this was going to be more of a pack a lunch pail type job.  I was going to have to put in a little time.

So I reluctantly started reading the boxes in hopes of finding a simple bulb to fit some can lights. About 10 minutes in I realized I was no closer to completing my errand than when I walked through the door.  In fact, I was worse off, as I was now slightly confused and my moral was fading fast.  I had lost my light bulb swagger.  A little embarrassed by how long this was taking me, I did a quick look around me to see if there were any families point and laughing.  There wasn’t.  There were just three other people standing in front of various sections of the aisle gazing at the bulbs with empty looks on their faces.  Kind of like the look I get when my wife starts explaining debits, credits and accrual reversals to me.

Finally after about 30 minutes I made my decision.  Partly out of being semi informed and partly out of being semi embarrassed at having spent a half a phuking hour buying a light bulb, I coolly strolled out of Home Depot with two light bulbs that cost me like $70!  IDK, they are supposed to last like 9 ½ years or something.  Yet another scam.  I can’t even remember what I ate for lunch, I’m sure not going to remember how long ago I replaced a light bulb.  And for those who haven’t been light bulb shopping recently and think I’m exaggerating, check out http://www.homedepot.com/b/Electrical-Light-Bulbs/N-5yc1vZbmbu?catStyle=ShowProducts where you can find a simple selection of 2,518 lighting choices including the Philips MasterColor 25-Watt PAR38 Integrated Ceramic Metal Halide HID Light Bulb with 1450 lumens of brightness and a life hour rating of 13.7 years for a mere $69.97.  If Humphry Davy were alive today he’d say FTN (fuck that noise).  Yeah, Edison didn’t invent the light bulb, he “improved” it and put us down the slippery slope to the Philips MasterColor 25-Watt PAR38 Integrated Ceramic Metal Halide HID Light Bulb with 1450 lumens of brightness and a life hour rating of 13.7 years. Yeah, thanks for that Tommy boy.

Death of a Postman

Death of a Postman

#deathofapostman  #blogschmog  #randomthoughts #bobblog

As a qualifier, I have nothing against the US Post Office.  In fact, for years I have said that they need to charge more for their service.  You want me to come to your house, pick up a letter and deliver it across the country for $0.49?  FTN!  Anyway, much like Block Buster and the Yellow Pages, the USPO is pretty deep into the back nine.  Yesterday my mailman knocked on my door (someone stole my mailbox…4 months ago…ha!).  I put my call on hold, got up and answered, only to get two pieces of junk mail that I immediately threw away.  When I answered the door I looked at my mailman and I could see almost an apologetic look in his eyes.  It was the same look I had on my face when I lost my virginity…sorry…I’ll do better next time.  Anyway, I kind of feel sorry for my mailman.  I think he knows that I know that he’s really not bringing much to the table anymore. Direct deposits, direct withdraws, direct billing, on-line shopping, he knows he’s dead weight.  At this point he’s pretty much just in it for the exercise.  He’s like Shaun T with a uniform.  And even the uniforms have gotten a lax.  My guy is kind of grungy but with the explorer hat.  Kind of a Kurt Cobain meets Dora.  Anyway, hang in there mister mailman.  Keep your chin up and update that resume…oh and when you send them out…use your dial up AOL email account don't mail them...nobody mails anything anymore.

You've Got Mail

#youvegotmail  #bobblog  #randomthoughts

"You've Got Mail".  Ah yes.  The first "notification".  Seemed harmless enough.  Hell, back in the day it was actually quite impressive.  The first few times folks my age heard it, it typically triggered a modern day "in my day" rant.  "Boy oh boy, have we come a long way.  I remember back in high school computer class (actually what it was called) we used to spend the entire hour on our Commodor 64's crunching Cobol and Fortran codes to get an oversized dot matrix printout of your name!  Hey did I ever show you how to spell boobless on your calculator?"
    
Anyway, somewhere between 1989 when AOL debuted "you've got mail" and today, I lost my affinity for the "notification".  In fact, I phuking hate the notification.  Actually I hate myself for my addiction to the notification. 

Between the hours of 5 a.m. to 10 p.m. my cell phone is always on my person.  And in those 17 waking hours I probably look at my phone 100 times.  Hey, that's less than six times an hour or once every 10 minutes...not too bad.  Actually it's frickin' horrible.  Text notifications, WhatsApp notifications, email notifications, Words With Friends notifications, SongPop notifications, Facebook notifications, Timehop notifications, voicemail notifications...it never stops!  When it's time for me to reboot, I turn on my digital clock app and prop my phone up on the nightstand where it vibrates throughout the night as important emails from Nordstrom, Amazon and Zappos roll in. 

Now I know, this is a me problem.  I am the one who has all of the notifications turned on.  I am the one who feels compelled to look at my phone every 10 minutes to see if anything new has happened.  I mean, I can't take a chance on missing someone on Facebook posting a beautiful sunrise or a picture of their effing dog, can I?  That's crazy talk. 

Ok, so the good news is, they say admitting you have a problem is the first step towards a cure or something like that.  Not sure I totally buy into that bs though because I've know for a long time that I drink more than I should and here I sit as a proud member of three wine clubs.  Anyway, I think I'm going to try and tackle my phone addiction first.  Partly because it will be easier and partly because I really like wine.  Ok...never mind...I can see this isn't going to work.  I think it's best if we don't spend too much time on fixing me.  I'm kind of a lost cause.  But for all you others...it's not too late!  Unplug.  Turn off your notifications.  Set your phone down for at least 3 hours a day.  Make it a rule to never look at your phone while your kids are talking to you.  Look out your window not at your phone when you want to see a sunrise (notice I didn't say "go outside"...baby steps...let's not get crazy).  Let's spend more time "making" memories and not "capturing" them.  Make the most of your day today!  Oh...before you do all that living in the present bullshit, please click the follow me button on this blog.  What?  I only have two followers and I think one of them is trying to sell me something!

naked and affraid: September 27th two thousand phucking fourteen. ...

naked and affraid: September 27th two thousand phucking fourteen. 

...: September 27th two thousand phucking fourteen.  Blogging...let's give this shit a try.  For the record, I've never read or wrote a...

September 27th two thousand phucking fourteen. 

Blogging...let's give this shit a try.  For the record, I've never read or wrote a blog.  So if there is a proper protocol that I should be following and I don't...my bad. 

"My bad".   You have to love "my bad".  It's kind of like a 2014 version of "I know I really fucked up, probably don't give a shit that I did, but by admitting that I acknowledge, it's "my bad", I really hope you feel better that I fucked up.  "My bad" is probably one of the most powerful phrases you can use today.  Embrace it.  Love it.  Learn it. 

"My bad" can get you out of most uneventful situations you put yourself in.  "My bad" admits ownership to a bad situation but in a way that almost makes others feel sorry for you.  It allows you to take ownership of a fucked up situation but in a casual kind of way.  Like, "oh shit, I engaged the nuclear code...what?...for real?...oh wow, my bad."

Think about how different you would feel if some folks would have used "my bad" instead:

Bill Clinton:  "But I want to say one thing to the American people. I want you to listen to me. I'm going to say this again: I did not have sexual relations with that woman, Miss Lewinsky. I never told anybody to lie, not a single time; never. These allegations are false. And I need to go back to work for the American people. Thank you."  Hey Bill, we know what you did, you perv.  I'm not judging but I'm just saying, a simple "my bad" would suffice. You had me at Hillary.

Tiger Woods:  "I was wrong. I was foolish. I don't get to play by different rules. The same boundaries that apply to everyone apply to me."  Hey Tiger, it's not like your buddy just asked you if you were playing a Pro Staff 3 and you said, ...ah...Pro Staff...3...uh...yeah,...yeah, that's mine." Bitch, we're not taking about your ball, you screwed some hookers!  But, in hindsight, I think a simple, "my bad" would suffice.

The point is, we are all flawed individuals.  Some more so than others...you know who you are! 

So let me be the first to say, let's all do the best we can to live in this effed up world and make the best decisions we can.   But we when don't make the "right" decisions and we all won't...let's do our best to cut our peers a little slack and let them slide with a simple "my bad".   And if they continue to fuck up, then let's take those sick bastards to task!  Sorry.  I got a little emotional there.   My bad.