Men are from Mars…filthy, stinking Mars

The difference between the way men and women interact came crashing in on me last night. My wife hosted a “bunko” party, (what—you don’t know what bunko is?)
Bunko is a silly game that women play to get back at their husbands for playing cards with their buddies, so they all schedule an evening a month in advance where they get together, share some food and entertain each other and at some point spend five minutes playing bunko. They pull out all the stops, my wife (who is without fault in every way) cleaned the house for TWO days, she prepared a meal, she bought special paper plates, she made homemade salsa, and the women who attended dressed trendy, did their hair and makeup, brought gifts for the hostess. They made frou-frou (sp?)_ drinks and sat around and talked for 4 hours in my very clean kitchen. The handed out gifts to the winner and hugged each other and thanked each other for the opportunity to spend time together.

Compare and contrast:

My buddies and I play a fairly frequent poker game. We do not plan ahead; we send each other a text or call a cell and say, “were playing tonight. 8:00 o’clock at James’ house.”
You show up. You walk downstairs; there are cans and bottles, spit cups and sunflower seeds everywhere. The basement is not a place for fine dining, it is not exactly a place for any sort of dining. There is a toilet across the room with no walls or doors so you can avoid the hassle of walking up the stairs. There is no expectation to bring a gift, or a bottle of wine, or a vegetable tray. (are sunflower seeds a vegetable?) We play cards, tell dirty stories, and generally wallow in our own filth.

The point of the event is to engage in the activity, in the guys’ case—Texas Hold ‘em. The point of the event for the women is to attend the event, the activity is secondary—in fact I don’t think they even played the game last night.

Netscape & Autoblog Green at Tesla Event

A Lotus inspired electric car being heavily invested in and promoted by silicon valley.

Cocoa Beach boys

This was the day that tropical storm Alberto came through Florida, so it was overcast, but the boys didn't care--

Sure it's safe, it's a three story slide on a trailer...

The boys come flying down the slide at the Independence Day celebration downtown.

Playing in the creek

My boys have a lot of fun together, we do a lot of this on the weekends...I like catching frogs and tadpoles as much as they do.

Turtles stink really bad

I am the proud owner of three turtles. Why three? Because I already had two and figured a third one wouldn't be any more hassle.

They are not exactly cuddly creatures, I have always loved reptiles, and these are certainly not the first reptiles I have kept, but they have worn out their welcome.

We bought two, one for each son, on a trip to the coast, I think we went to Hilton Head and at every T-shirt shop and souvenir stand there was a bunch of weirdos selling tiny little aquatic turtles for 10 bucks...think of hermit crabs only considerably more disgusting, unpredictable and with the added benefit of being likely carriers of salmonella, you can see how they are a perfect pet for your toddlers. Later my boys and I were camping and late at night my dog discovered a baby soft shelled turtle making its way to the water, so we intercepted it and kept it as a pet--by far the most unusual turtle in Missouri, it's shell is like a leather pancake and it has a really long neck that it uses like a snorkel.

Now we have had these stinking animals for more than two years and it is time for them to go, but we cannot convince our boys that they would be happier in the wild...
So like I chump, I am cleaning out their 10 gallon tank of poop at 10 o clock on a Sunday night.

Temple Transformation

I am attempting to treat my body less like a hazardous waste dump and more like a temple.
I would say on a continuum with “Landfill” on the far left and “Shaolin Monastery” on the extreme right---my treatment of my body would fall somewhere in the “Los Angeles Metropolitan area,” ---I try to keep up appearances, but the smog and industrial chemical dumping is taking its toll on the infrastructure.
I will turn 30 in 10 days, and in honor of this “achievement,” I am eating healthier and working out, and abstaining from anything that might be considered fun or bad for you.

Depending on my progress I will take “before” and “after” shots. If little or no progress is made, I will Photoshop myself until it looks like I am Arnold Schwarzenegger (Mr. Olympia, not Mr. Gubernator).

Don't call it a comeback

I’ve been here for years….

I’m a poser sports fan. I like sports, I really like attending sporting activities, I am somewhat athletic although the only organized sport I played at a “varsity” level was tennis—I played league baseball and church league basketball….I digress.

I’m a poser sports fan. I work at a company that employs a lot of rabid sports fans, and since I have a compulsion to fit in with the cool kids, I have been known to act like I know more than I really know about sports. I mean, some guys/girls have an encyclopedic knowledge of every player and every team, they know how many times Molina hit into a double play in 2004, they know how many strike outs Clemens had since he turned 34, they know how many Gold Gloves Maddox has, or how many TD receptions Terrell has at every team he has ever played for...

I have a mind for useless trivia, but I have never been all that interested in learning these vital stats, so I fake like I do. I am not sure why…it is perfectly acceptable in modern society to not know every sports stat…but I will learn one or two things, and then attempt to contribute to a conversation--- that way during football season, when “the guys” are standing around talking football, I can say: “Yeah, Deion Branch---that guy’s an animal…tied Jerry Rice in number of receptions in a Super Bowl…drafted 65th overall in 2002.”

Of course I don’t know any other stats of any other players, probably couldn’t name more than 5 of them, but that’s why I’m a poser, and I know it. First step is admitting you have a problem.