And I don't even know why. Wait, I think I do. It sucks. It just sucks. We aren't like other families.
I drove my youngest son to band practice yesterday. It was a rehearsal before his first concert. It was near where my oldest son used to live. And I got mad. And sad. And upset. And annoyed. And any other synonym you can come up with.
Why? I don't know. I am still angry that he ended up in LA. I still harbor some ill will towards the people who ran the prior group home. I still blame them. And so it made me mad. I wanted to cry. I couldn't. How could I explain that to my kids?
UGH! So I have been grumpy the last two days. And I have no explanation as to why.
That's it. Back to your regularly scheduled reading.............
Wednesday, December 18, 2013
7 things I think
So my wife bought me a stress ball. But not just a stress ball. She loves me. She also bought me a stress guy. You know, its like the ball but its a blue dude that you can squeeze the crap out of. Yeah, well, still hasn't resolved my stress. So here goes.
1. ATM Machines - folks, its not like these are some new fangled gadget. I get that its a machine and that it must be freaking cool. Its not that cool. It takes your money. It gives you money. It may even sell stamps, if you really need stamps. Its a great little invention, or it was in 1968. It was so high tech. But, its 2013. It shouldn't come as a surprise that there are ATMs everywhere. And you should be expected to know how to use it. For example, if you are standing so close to me that I can smell your BO, you are too close. If you continue to stand so close to me that I can smell your BO even after I turn around and look at you, then you are way too close. Back the fuck up and give me some space. Think of it this way - if you think that people need 1 foot of personal space, at an ATM machine it should be 3 times that much. So, I need 3 feet of personal space. You get too close and someone punches you, its your own damn fault.
2. Assumptions -Why do people make assumptions based on their life about others? What do I mean? So, in your life, everyone is happy. Don't assume that everyone you meet is then happy. Look, I am guilty of this too. I am going to try to work on it next year. But we need to stop assuming that because we see A that everyone else sees A as well. I am sorry that you don't understand why people need to hire attorneys. That doesn't mean that everyone else sees it that way. Some people think attorneys are useful. Can you just leave it at that? The events you experience in life are not the events that anyone else experiences and you need to just back off and stop assuming that they see things the same way.
3. Profanity - I know I use fucking profanity in this blog. You know it too. You don't read this without knowing that there is profanity. When its more than once or twice, I even warn you on the post. But its not really a public forum. Sure, if you do the right search you will find it. But its not like there are 12 year olds reading this or old women. But it still bothers me that people drop profanity in public as if it is no big deal. I heard a woman call another woman a "bitch" the other day in public. Why on earth would you do that? Fine, you are upset. You are angry. Can't you express that without the fucking profanity? Seriously, profanity is fine if you are talking to your buddies, in your house or someone has done something so bad that the only way to describe it is to drop the f-bomb, as in "You are a fucker for punching Sue." Otherwise, lets cut back on the profanity, especially around women and children!
4. Language - that brings me to my next problem. Language. Words means something. Every word you say has a meaning. So, if I say "You are a jerk" then each word in that sentence means something. If I say "I don't want to talk to you" that means that I, the person speaking, does not want to talk to you! If you don't mean what you are saying, then find different words. And if the only word you can come up with is bitch or fuck or ass or motherfucker or something along those lines, than expand your vocabulary. For example, instead of saying "I can't believe that you fucked me like that" you could say "I am very upset that you treated me that way." See, better and a more proper use of language.
5. Morons - what the hell is up with people? Are people dumber now than they were before? Do you read what some of these people write? Or listen to what they say? They are idiots. Everyone has a different perspective. Maybe we need to send some of these people back to school. Or they need sensitivity training. I know the holidays can be stressful. But can we stop being morons.
6. Driving - speaking of being morons, do you know that the car you drive is a deadly weapon? Yes, it is. People can die because you drive like crap. When you are driving, your first job is to drive. That is easy. Don't put on your makeup. Don't try to squeeze your piece of crap car in a spot between me and the car in front of me. If you are trying to change lanes and there is a car there, don't do it. If you have to drive an extra 300 feet to be safe, then drive an extra 300 feet to be safe. Is it really that hard?
7. Music - UGH! I hate today's music. There is some song and I believe the lyrics go something like "blunt blunt blunt roll that blunt." I could write a song like that. Ready, my 10 seconds to write a chorus to some crappy song today:
Porn porn porn
I watch some porn
Porn Porn Porn
Because I dont fucking know how to talk to people
Porn Porn Porn
I don't have a woman because I watch
Porn Porn Porn
Seriously, that is as good as a lot of this crap. Don't tell me its not. I think maybe I should become a songwriter!
Okay, there. Now I feel a bit better!
1. ATM Machines - folks, its not like these are some new fangled gadget. I get that its a machine and that it must be freaking cool. Its not that cool. It takes your money. It gives you money. It may even sell stamps, if you really need stamps. Its a great little invention, or it was in 1968. It was so high tech. But, its 2013. It shouldn't come as a surprise that there are ATMs everywhere. And you should be expected to know how to use it. For example, if you are standing so close to me that I can smell your BO, you are too close. If you continue to stand so close to me that I can smell your BO even after I turn around and look at you, then you are way too close. Back the fuck up and give me some space. Think of it this way - if you think that people need 1 foot of personal space, at an ATM machine it should be 3 times that much. So, I need 3 feet of personal space. You get too close and someone punches you, its your own damn fault.
2. Assumptions -Why do people make assumptions based on their life about others? What do I mean? So, in your life, everyone is happy. Don't assume that everyone you meet is then happy. Look, I am guilty of this too. I am going to try to work on it next year. But we need to stop assuming that because we see A that everyone else sees A as well. I am sorry that you don't understand why people need to hire attorneys. That doesn't mean that everyone else sees it that way. Some people think attorneys are useful. Can you just leave it at that? The events you experience in life are not the events that anyone else experiences and you need to just back off and stop assuming that they see things the same way.
3. Profanity - I know I use fucking profanity in this blog. You know it too. You don't read this without knowing that there is profanity. When its more than once or twice, I even warn you on the post. But its not really a public forum. Sure, if you do the right search you will find it. But its not like there are 12 year olds reading this or old women. But it still bothers me that people drop profanity in public as if it is no big deal. I heard a woman call another woman a "bitch" the other day in public. Why on earth would you do that? Fine, you are upset. You are angry. Can't you express that without the fucking profanity? Seriously, profanity is fine if you are talking to your buddies, in your house or someone has done something so bad that the only way to describe it is to drop the f-bomb, as in "You are a fucker for punching Sue." Otherwise, lets cut back on the profanity, especially around women and children!
4. Language - that brings me to my next problem. Language. Words means something. Every word you say has a meaning. So, if I say "You are a jerk" then each word in that sentence means something. If I say "I don't want to talk to you" that means that I, the person speaking, does not want to talk to you! If you don't mean what you are saying, then find different words. And if the only word you can come up with is bitch or fuck or ass or motherfucker or something along those lines, than expand your vocabulary. For example, instead of saying "I can't believe that you fucked me like that" you could say "I am very upset that you treated me that way." See, better and a more proper use of language.
5. Morons - what the hell is up with people? Are people dumber now than they were before? Do you read what some of these people write? Or listen to what they say? They are idiots. Everyone has a different perspective. Maybe we need to send some of these people back to school. Or they need sensitivity training. I know the holidays can be stressful. But can we stop being morons.
6. Driving - speaking of being morons, do you know that the car you drive is a deadly weapon? Yes, it is. People can die because you drive like crap. When you are driving, your first job is to drive. That is easy. Don't put on your makeup. Don't try to squeeze your piece of crap car in a spot between me and the car in front of me. If you are trying to change lanes and there is a car there, don't do it. If you have to drive an extra 300 feet to be safe, then drive an extra 300 feet to be safe. Is it really that hard?
7. Music - UGH! I hate today's music. There is some song and I believe the lyrics go something like "blunt blunt blunt roll that blunt." I could write a song like that. Ready, my 10 seconds to write a chorus to some crappy song today:
Porn porn porn
I watch some porn
Porn Porn Porn
Because I dont fucking know how to talk to people
Porn Porn Porn
I don't have a woman because I watch
Porn Porn Porn
Seriously, that is as good as a lot of this crap. Don't tell me its not. I think maybe I should become a songwriter!
Okay, there. Now I feel a bit better!
Sunday, December 8, 2013
The problem with giving
I figured it out. Giving is too hard for most people. No, that is not a shot at them. It is a true statement. It is too hard to give. I would like to say its no one's fault,. but that would be wrong. It is someone's fault.
You see, we decided to go buy some coats for homeless kids and give them out on Saturday. We have had a very nasty cold spell. Fine, its not New England cold or Denver cold, but for us, it is cold. Most people don't have a heavy coat that is quite heavy enough for this. And imagine if you were a homeless kid. You sure as heck don't own a coat that you can use. So, we came up with this idea. Great.
One problem: no one makes it easy to give out. We drove around parts of town where the homeless people live. Your town has a place like that. Every town does. You may know where it is. You may not. But you probably should know.
There are "social service" agencies that claim to help the homeless. But they don't work together. They want you to give them the donation so they can decide who is worthy to get it. What makes them so special that they can make that decision? I don't want them making that decision. Its my damn money. I want to decide who gets the coats that I buy. I don't want some bureaucrat making that decision. I dont even like bureaucrats!
We used to "adopt a family" every Christmas. Guess what? They don't do that either. They want you to give them the gifts. Then they decide who gets them. Again, why? What makes them a better person to decide who is worthy to get the gift that I give? It is my right to give.
You see, if we made it easy for people to give, they would give. Don't set up levels and levels of bureaucracy. We need to give directly to the people who need it.
Wait, I know. Some people who get it aren't going to do the "right thing" with the gift. You are right. They may not. Some parent may take the coat and sell it to another person whose kid needs a coat. Someone may use the coat to burn a fire. I get it. But, who am I to judge? There but for the grace of God, go I.
So that is it. That is the problem with giving. We make it too hard for people to give. We set up too many roadblocks. We create levels of bureaucracy, some of which don't agree with other levels of bureaucracy or other bureaucratic organizations. We need to get out of this cycle and let people give directly to those who are needy. That, my friends, would make the world a better place.
You see, we decided to go buy some coats for homeless kids and give them out on Saturday. We have had a very nasty cold spell. Fine, its not New England cold or Denver cold, but for us, it is cold. Most people don't have a heavy coat that is quite heavy enough for this. And imagine if you were a homeless kid. You sure as heck don't own a coat that you can use. So, we came up with this idea. Great.
One problem: no one makes it easy to give out. We drove around parts of town where the homeless people live. Your town has a place like that. Every town does. You may know where it is. You may not. But you probably should know.
There are "social service" agencies that claim to help the homeless. But they don't work together. They want you to give them the donation so they can decide who is worthy to get it. What makes them so special that they can make that decision? I don't want them making that decision. Its my damn money. I want to decide who gets the coats that I buy. I don't want some bureaucrat making that decision. I dont even like bureaucrats!
We used to "adopt a family" every Christmas. Guess what? They don't do that either. They want you to give them the gifts. Then they decide who gets them. Again, why? What makes them a better person to decide who is worthy to get the gift that I give? It is my right to give.
You see, if we made it easy for people to give, they would give. Don't set up levels and levels of bureaucracy. We need to give directly to the people who need it.
Wait, I know. Some people who get it aren't going to do the "right thing" with the gift. You are right. They may not. Some parent may take the coat and sell it to another person whose kid needs a coat. Someone may use the coat to burn a fire. I get it. But, who am I to judge? There but for the grace of God, go I.
So that is it. That is the problem with giving. We make it too hard for people to give. We set up too many roadblocks. We create levels of bureaucracy, some of which don't agree with other levels of bureaucracy or other bureaucratic organizations. We need to get out of this cycle and let people give directly to those who are needy. That, my friends, would make the world a better place.
Thursday, December 5, 2013
The loss of common courtesy
If you are reading this, you probably know what I do for a living. But if you don't, I practice law. There is some joke that they call it the practice of law because we are always learning. Something like that. I probably blew that. That's okay. It was never that funny to begin with.
Anyway, I received a letter yesterday and I thought to myself "Hmmmm............that is not professional." But then I talked to people about it. I realized its not that it was not professional. It was definitely not professional. But that was not the problem with it. The problem was that there was no common courtesy. You see, here is the phone call that preceded this letter:
Them:
Me:
Them:
Me:
Them:
Me:
You did not misread that. That was not me losing the ability to write. That was the actual phone call. Wait, that's right. THEY NEVER CALLED ME!
Look, the world is a complicated place. Technology makes it too easy for us to text or email or kik or snapchat or whatever with other people. If you want something, do you know the easiest way to get it? This is going to come as a surprise................you should call them.
Yes, that thing that is plugged in on your desk that has numbers 0-9 and a handset? That is called a telephone. If you pick up that handset looking thingy, and you press either 7 or 10 numbers (technically, 11), and you hear this ringing sound. Then, either someone picks up the other telephone or it goes to this voice mail invention.
You see, you then get to have a conversation with someone. You talk. You work out issues. You resolve disputes. You make plans. You may even make a friend. It should not be rocket science to do this, especially if you think you are smart.
If I am smart enough to use a phone and you think you are smarter than me, than you should be smart enough to use a phone. If you can't, don't blame your generation. Don't blame your age. Blame your parents for not teaching you how to be courteous and how to interact with other people.
Is it really that hard?
Anyway, I received a letter yesterday and I thought to myself "Hmmmm............that is not professional." But then I talked to people about it. I realized its not that it was not professional. It was definitely not professional. But that was not the problem with it. The problem was that there was no common courtesy. You see, here is the phone call that preceded this letter:
Them:
Me:
Them:
Me:
Them:
Me:
You did not misread that. That was not me losing the ability to write. That was the actual phone call. Wait, that's right. THEY NEVER CALLED ME!
Look, the world is a complicated place. Technology makes it too easy for us to text or email or kik or snapchat or whatever with other people. If you want something, do you know the easiest way to get it? This is going to come as a surprise................you should call them.
Yes, that thing that is plugged in on your desk that has numbers 0-9 and a handset? That is called a telephone. If you pick up that handset looking thingy, and you press either 7 or 10 numbers (technically, 11), and you hear this ringing sound. Then, either someone picks up the other telephone or it goes to this voice mail invention.
You see, you then get to have a conversation with someone. You talk. You work out issues. You resolve disputes. You make plans. You may even make a friend. It should not be rocket science to do this, especially if you think you are smart.
If I am smart enough to use a phone and you think you are smarter than me, than you should be smart enough to use a phone. If you can't, don't blame your generation. Don't blame your age. Blame your parents for not teaching you how to be courteous and how to interact with other people.
Is it really that hard?
Tuesday, December 3, 2013
Its the freaking holidays
I don't know if anyone knows this, but its the holiday season. Yes, it is. It started on Thursday. Well, Friday for most people. Thursday, if you want to be technical. Or, for some whackjobs, November 1. Yes, some people think the holidays start the day after Halloween. Newsflash: they dont!
What is the holiday season? Is it a time to give thanks for all we have in the world? Is it a time to reflect on how lucky we are? Is it a time to pull our loved ones close, squeeze them and tell them we love them? I would say yes..............
Unfortunately, the world is full of morons and idiots. Do you know what these people think the holidays are: a time for buying every freaking thing on sale as cheaply and rudely as possible. How do I know this? Because I watch these arses do this every year.
I went to Target tonight. What did I see? Exhibit A: a lady was looking at some toy or some such nonsense. She grabbed said toy and let her 3 or 4 year old daughter take every freaking gift bag off of the shelf and put it on the floor. All of them. I couldn't get through the aisle. So she looks at her daughter as I stand there, says "no" and then moves the gift bags to the side. That's right. She doesn't put them away!
Exhibit B: some lady wanted some garbage "present." It wasn't there. Yes, surprisingly, stores run out of crap, especially cheap crap. What does she do? She yells about it. At some poor guy making $10 per hour who can barely figure out why he is being yelled at.
Exhibit C: drive through any parking lot and watch these people fight over parking spaces so they can be the closest one to the store. Why? So they can carry out bags and bags of "gifts" and not have to walk too far. Hey, a little walk may do you some good.
I am sick and tired of this stuff. Look, I don't know what holiday you celebrate but it is probably Hanukkah or Christmas or Kwanzaa. Lets just say that is a good guess. Hanukkah is the festival of lights. Its not the festival of gifts. Christmas is the celebration of the birth of Christ. (Maybe that is a simplistic explanation, but its not my holiday.) It is not the celebration of the birth of Black Friday or Cyber Monday or Suck it Wednesday. Kwanzaa is a celebration of African American culture. It is not the celebration of African American gift giving.
Look, I get that getting a present is cool. It can be fun. I like getting presents as much as the next guy. But you don't have to be a douche when you are buying a gift. You can be polite. Imagine if we all stopped for 2 minutes and were nice to the moron buying the 16 whatachmacallits because he thinks they will be the hot toy and he can resell them on Craigslist or eBay and make money. Imagine if we didn't have to push people out of our way to get to some gift or we didn't have to fight over parking spaces.
Imagine, if you will, that we celebrated the spirit of the holidays, instead of the gift giving of the holidays..............
What is the holiday season? Is it a time to give thanks for all we have in the world? Is it a time to reflect on how lucky we are? Is it a time to pull our loved ones close, squeeze them and tell them we love them? I would say yes..............
Unfortunately, the world is full of morons and idiots. Do you know what these people think the holidays are: a time for buying every freaking thing on sale as cheaply and rudely as possible. How do I know this? Because I watch these arses do this every year.
I went to Target tonight. What did I see? Exhibit A: a lady was looking at some toy or some such nonsense. She grabbed said toy and let her 3 or 4 year old daughter take every freaking gift bag off of the shelf and put it on the floor. All of them. I couldn't get through the aisle. So she looks at her daughter as I stand there, says "no" and then moves the gift bags to the side. That's right. She doesn't put them away!
Exhibit B: some lady wanted some garbage "present." It wasn't there. Yes, surprisingly, stores run out of crap, especially cheap crap. What does she do? She yells about it. At some poor guy making $10 per hour who can barely figure out why he is being yelled at.
Exhibit C: drive through any parking lot and watch these people fight over parking spaces so they can be the closest one to the store. Why? So they can carry out bags and bags of "gifts" and not have to walk too far. Hey, a little walk may do you some good.
I am sick and tired of this stuff. Look, I don't know what holiday you celebrate but it is probably Hanukkah or Christmas or Kwanzaa. Lets just say that is a good guess. Hanukkah is the festival of lights. Its not the festival of gifts. Christmas is the celebration of the birth of Christ. (Maybe that is a simplistic explanation, but its not my holiday.) It is not the celebration of the birth of Black Friday or Cyber Monday or Suck it Wednesday. Kwanzaa is a celebration of African American culture. It is not the celebration of African American gift giving.
Look, I get that getting a present is cool. It can be fun. I like getting presents as much as the next guy. But you don't have to be a douche when you are buying a gift. You can be polite. Imagine if we all stopped for 2 minutes and were nice to the moron buying the 16 whatachmacallits because he thinks they will be the hot toy and he can resell them on Craigslist or eBay and make money. Imagine if we didn't have to push people out of our way to get to some gift or we didn't have to fight over parking spaces.
Imagine, if you will, that we celebrated the spirit of the holidays, instead of the gift giving of the holidays..............
Saturday, November 30, 2013
An Ode To Tyler
My son Tyler is one amazing kid. He doesn't even know it. But he is. He is 14 and he has many "issues," but the kid is one amazing kid.
Thursday was Thanksgiving. It is one of my favorite holidays. Its a day to give thanks for all of the things we have in life. And, sadly, its one of the few days that people stop and give thanks. I like it.
For us, it was a day we got to spend with Tyler. We haven't spent Thanksgiving with Tyler in 3 years. So it was a special day. Tyler came and was such a good kid on Thursday.
And you know what? I wasn't happy with Thanksgiving. I had a million reasons to complain. I didn't like this or that or the other thing. And I was wrong. Dang it, its hard to admit when I am wrong, but it happens quite a bit!
You see, Tyler reminded me, when I thought about it, that Thanksgiving isn't about the food or the company or anything else. Thanksgiving is about giving thanks and being with family. It doesn't matter what was wrong with Thursday. What matters is what was right with Thursday.
The turkey wasn't perfect? Who cares? Shopping isn't the point. Getting up early (or going to bed late) isnt the point. The point is that I get to hang out with my son, go for a walk with him and generally be a goof ball. The rest of it: not important at all.
So thanks Tyler, for reminding me about Thanksgiving. You always teach me something new!
Thursday was Thanksgiving. It is one of my favorite holidays. Its a day to give thanks for all of the things we have in life. And, sadly, its one of the few days that people stop and give thanks. I like it.
For us, it was a day we got to spend with Tyler. We haven't spent Thanksgiving with Tyler in 3 years. So it was a special day. Tyler came and was such a good kid on Thursday.
And you know what? I wasn't happy with Thanksgiving. I had a million reasons to complain. I didn't like this or that or the other thing. And I was wrong. Dang it, its hard to admit when I am wrong, but it happens quite a bit!
You see, Tyler reminded me, when I thought about it, that Thanksgiving isn't about the food or the company or anything else. Thanksgiving is about giving thanks and being with family. It doesn't matter what was wrong with Thursday. What matters is what was right with Thursday.
The turkey wasn't perfect? Who cares? Shopping isn't the point. Getting up early (or going to bed late) isnt the point. The point is that I get to hang out with my son, go for a walk with him and generally be a goof ball. The rest of it: not important at all.
So thanks Tyler, for reminding me about Thanksgiving. You always teach me something new!
Wednesday, November 20, 2013
What do I stand for?
So maybe it was too much weird music in the car. Maybe it was work today. Maybe it has just been a crappy few days. Either way, between fun and Katy Perry, it had me thinking. (Don't judge my music. Its better than 40 cent or Jay Q or NandN.) Anyway, I was thinking, what do I stand for?
Okay, for those of you who don't get it. The lyrics to Some Nights by fun include "What do I stand for? Most nights, I don't know anymore." The lyrics to Roar by Katy Perry include "I stood for nothing, so I fell for everything." Hence, the theme, if you are not up on your current music.
I thought and I thought. What do I stand for?
My family. Sometimes they bug me. Sometimes they annoy me. Sometimes they drive me crazy. But I always love them. My mom used to tell me that she always loved me, but she didn't always like me. I get it now. I always love my family, even if they drive me crazy sometimes. (I also get why I drove my mom to drink, or at least why she said it. She is looking down at me from heaven and laughing at me now. "You fool. You should have more liquor around!")
Beyond that, I wonder. I know when I introduce myself to people, it goes something like this. I am a husband. I am a father. (Hence, I know I stand for family.) I am a friend. I am a soccer player. I am a guy who tries to do the right thing. Somewhere after 8 or 9 things, I may mention I am an attorney. I don't know what that says about me, but I am sure it says something.
So, what do I stand for? Hmmmm.............Here are 10 things I stand for.
1. I believe in truth, justice and the American Way. I just don't believe we get it. Look, I don't know what justice is always, but sometimes I know it and I don't see it. Sometimes it just isn't there. Maybe I am naive. But I think we should always aim for justice.
2. I will only fight if you hurt my wife, hurt my kids, or if its necessary to protect myself. I will not start a fight. I will not fight you because you question my manhood. My manhood has nothing to do with my ability to kick your ass. My ability to throw a punch hasn't been questioned since 1986. I am not going to do it simply to show you I can do it.
3. A real man will step up and do what is right for his family, even if it is not best for him. I fully believe a man will do something to protect his wife and kids, regardless of the personal consequences. Trust me on this.
4. The punishment should fit the crime, but it usually doesnt. I see it all the time. Two people who do the same thing get two different outcomes. I don't like it, but it is the way things work.
5. Those people in power will do what is best for them to keep their power, even if it means that they have to bend or break the rules. Look, if you enforce the rules, you have the ability to bend and/or break the rules with no consequence. So you do it. Its wrong, but it doesn't matter if you never get called on it.
6. People can be really good, but a lot of people are too self absorbed to do good. I think when we come together as a community, as a country, as a world, we can accomplish a lot of good. But see 5. People in power don't always want to do what is good or right, but rather what keeps their power. If people would spend 5 minutes every day doing something nice for someone else just because, the world would be a better place.
7. My heroes will always be my heroes. Yep, my dad will always be the ideal that I will try to live up to. I will fail, miserably. But I will try. Muhammad Ali, Bear Bryant, Werner Roth, Pele, these men can do no wrong in my eyes. Sure, they may do wrong, but they will always be my heroes. Little boys (and girls) need heroes.
8. I will always protect my daughter more than my sons. Yep, its sexist. Yep, its wrong. Yep, its me. She knows, now at the delicate age of 4, that I will always catch her - even metaphorically. My boys will fall more. I don't know why, but this is my way.
9. I believe everyone gets a chance. Everyone gets a 2nd chance. Some people deserve a third chance. Maybe I am dumb for believing that the best in people will shine through, but I do. I think if we give them a chance, a real chance, they will surprise you.
10. I will always try. I don't care if its work or play or what. I will not quit. Its not who I am. I could spar for 19 rounds. I have played soccer sick. I have played hurt. I have worked when I was sick or sad. I will always do it. And I will not give up.
So there it is. 10 things I stand for. I hold these things to be true................
Okay, for those of you who don't get it. The lyrics to Some Nights by fun include "What do I stand for? Most nights, I don't know anymore." The lyrics to Roar by Katy Perry include "I stood for nothing, so I fell for everything." Hence, the theme, if you are not up on your current music.
I thought and I thought. What do I stand for?
My family. Sometimes they bug me. Sometimes they annoy me. Sometimes they drive me crazy. But I always love them. My mom used to tell me that she always loved me, but she didn't always like me. I get it now. I always love my family, even if they drive me crazy sometimes. (I also get why I drove my mom to drink, or at least why she said it. She is looking down at me from heaven and laughing at me now. "You fool. You should have more liquor around!")
Beyond that, I wonder. I know when I introduce myself to people, it goes something like this. I am a husband. I am a father. (Hence, I know I stand for family.) I am a friend. I am a soccer player. I am a guy who tries to do the right thing. Somewhere after 8 or 9 things, I may mention I am an attorney. I don't know what that says about me, but I am sure it says something.
So, what do I stand for? Hmmmm.............Here are 10 things I stand for.
1. I believe in truth, justice and the American Way. I just don't believe we get it. Look, I don't know what justice is always, but sometimes I know it and I don't see it. Sometimes it just isn't there. Maybe I am naive. But I think we should always aim for justice.
2. I will only fight if you hurt my wife, hurt my kids, or if its necessary to protect myself. I will not start a fight. I will not fight you because you question my manhood. My manhood has nothing to do with my ability to kick your ass. My ability to throw a punch hasn't been questioned since 1986. I am not going to do it simply to show you I can do it.
3. A real man will step up and do what is right for his family, even if it is not best for him. I fully believe a man will do something to protect his wife and kids, regardless of the personal consequences. Trust me on this.
4. The punishment should fit the crime, but it usually doesnt. I see it all the time. Two people who do the same thing get two different outcomes. I don't like it, but it is the way things work.
5. Those people in power will do what is best for them to keep their power, even if it means that they have to bend or break the rules. Look, if you enforce the rules, you have the ability to bend and/or break the rules with no consequence. So you do it. Its wrong, but it doesn't matter if you never get called on it.
6. People can be really good, but a lot of people are too self absorbed to do good. I think when we come together as a community, as a country, as a world, we can accomplish a lot of good. But see 5. People in power don't always want to do what is good or right, but rather what keeps their power. If people would spend 5 minutes every day doing something nice for someone else just because, the world would be a better place.
7. My heroes will always be my heroes. Yep, my dad will always be the ideal that I will try to live up to. I will fail, miserably. But I will try. Muhammad Ali, Bear Bryant, Werner Roth, Pele, these men can do no wrong in my eyes. Sure, they may do wrong, but they will always be my heroes. Little boys (and girls) need heroes.
8. I will always protect my daughter more than my sons. Yep, its sexist. Yep, its wrong. Yep, its me. She knows, now at the delicate age of 4, that I will always catch her - even metaphorically. My boys will fall more. I don't know why, but this is my way.
9. I believe everyone gets a chance. Everyone gets a 2nd chance. Some people deserve a third chance. Maybe I am dumb for believing that the best in people will shine through, but I do. I think if we give them a chance, a real chance, they will surprise you.
10. I will always try. I don't care if its work or play or what. I will not quit. Its not who I am. I could spar for 19 rounds. I have played soccer sick. I have played hurt. I have worked when I was sick or sad. I will always do it. And I will not give up.
So there it is. 10 things I stand for. I hold these things to be true................
Monday, November 4, 2013
Morons, I say, morons
I love Elk Grove. Its a great place to raise a family. How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. We have the best schools around. Period. We have a great parks and rec district. We have two swimming centers, parks galore, a father daughter dance that rocks. We come together as a community regularly. We help each other. We look out for each other.
That being said, we are run by morons. Morons, I say, morons. How do I know this? Read this from two years ago: http://randomrants08.blogspot.com/2011/12/mls-in-elk-grove-i-think-not.html or this from last year: http://randomrants08.blogspot.com/2012/06/elk-grove-city-council.html Okay, if that doesn't convince you of this, then let me explain a few more things.
Do you know who is getting the next MLS team? Not Elk Grove. Why not? Because Elk Grove doesn't freaking listen. Not just to me, but to MLS. Orlando is getting the next MLS team. Why? Because Orlando deserves it. How do I know? Because Orlando has supported minor league soccer for years. Orlando has shown it is a great soccer city. So, MLS is going to reward Orlando. The moral of the story: if you want to play with the big boys, follow the fucking rules, you morons.
But, wait, there's more. From the Sacramento Bee: http://www.sacbee.com/2013/08/06/5625720/elk-groves-proposed-water-park.html Okay, fine, you don't want to read that. They want to build a $45 million water park and start it with $14 million in public funds. From the story: "It's time for Elk Grove to be on the map and be a destination for tourism," Mayor Gary Davis said.
Wait, a second. Stop the presses. Elk Grove needs to be on the map? Seriously? I checked. Elk Grove is on the map: http://mapq.st/18UxhxG Really, it is. It is on the map. I know because I read it on the internet so it must be true.
Oh wait. He didn't mean literally. Sorry, its hard to tell with these politicians. How do you know when a politician is lying? His mouth is moving!
So he wants us to be on THE MAP, as in, a place that people know and want to come to. Who the hell wants this beside him? Oh, I forgot, he has vision, I don't. Yes, I have been told that. I don't have vision. Of course, my eye doctor, the best in Sacramento, would disagree with that. They checked. I see just fine - with my glasses on.
You see, Elk Grove is not a destination. Never has been. Never will be. It doesn't need to be. Its not why we moved here. People moved here because they like it as it is, a small town where you can still go to the grocery store and see friends. A place where everybody knows your name. You walk in and feel like Norm.
The only people who want something different are the fucking politicians. Why? Because they are politicians. They make sure their kids have jobs. They make sure they have money to run for another office. They make sure they have a legacy. That isn't what people want. People want what we have. A nice, quiet town that needs a few more white collar jobs where people can still know their neighbors.
So lets stop with this keep up with Orlando or Anaheim or whatever idiotic city Gary Davis thinks we should be so Gary Davis can think he is cool. Lets go back to being Elk Grove, a place where people move because we are friendly. Take your aquatic center and shove it up your fake MLS stadium and stick them both in your mall - that still isn't finished. Great job of getting nothing built, city council, because you don't know what real people want!
That being said, we are run by morons. Morons, I say, morons. How do I know this? Read this from two years ago: http://randomrants08.blogspot.com/2011/12/mls-in-elk-grove-i-think-not.html or this from last year: http://randomrants08.blogspot.com/2012/06/elk-grove-city-council.html Okay, if that doesn't convince you of this, then let me explain a few more things.
Do you know who is getting the next MLS team? Not Elk Grove. Why not? Because Elk Grove doesn't freaking listen. Not just to me, but to MLS. Orlando is getting the next MLS team. Why? Because Orlando deserves it. How do I know? Because Orlando has supported minor league soccer for years. Orlando has shown it is a great soccer city. So, MLS is going to reward Orlando. The moral of the story: if you want to play with the big boys, follow the fucking rules, you morons.
But, wait, there's more. From the Sacramento Bee: http://www.sacbee.com/2013/08/06/5625720/elk-groves-proposed-water-park.html Okay, fine, you don't want to read that. They want to build a $45 million water park and start it with $14 million in public funds. From the story: "It's time for Elk Grove to be on the map and be a destination for tourism," Mayor Gary Davis said.
Wait, a second. Stop the presses. Elk Grove needs to be on the map? Seriously? I checked. Elk Grove is on the map: http://mapq.st/18UxhxG Really, it is. It is on the map. I know because I read it on the internet so it must be true.
Oh wait. He didn't mean literally. Sorry, its hard to tell with these politicians. How do you know when a politician is lying? His mouth is moving!
So he wants us to be on THE MAP, as in, a place that people know and want to come to. Who the hell wants this beside him? Oh, I forgot, he has vision, I don't. Yes, I have been told that. I don't have vision. Of course, my eye doctor, the best in Sacramento, would disagree with that. They checked. I see just fine - with my glasses on.
You see, Elk Grove is not a destination. Never has been. Never will be. It doesn't need to be. Its not why we moved here. People moved here because they like it as it is, a small town where you can still go to the grocery store and see friends. A place where everybody knows your name. You walk in and feel like Norm.
The only people who want something different are the fucking politicians. Why? Because they are politicians. They make sure their kids have jobs. They make sure they have money to run for another office. They make sure they have a legacy. That isn't what people want. People want what we have. A nice, quiet town that needs a few more white collar jobs where people can still know their neighbors.
So lets stop with this keep up with Orlando or Anaheim or whatever idiotic city Gary Davis thinks we should be so Gary Davis can think he is cool. Lets go back to being Elk Grove, a place where people move because we are friendly. Take your aquatic center and shove it up your fake MLS stadium and stick them both in your mall - that still isn't finished. Great job of getting nothing built, city council, because you don't know what real people want!
Tuesday, October 29, 2013
This, that and the other thing - oh, and two more things as well
Okay, so I was going to write something sad tonight. I was going to explain something or other. But I figured this would be a better use of my time. So I had a topic or five that was building up inside of me. I thought this would be a good time to get them off my chest.
1. Hummers and BMWs - no, not every Hummer and BMW. Wait, let me rephrase that. Not every BMW. But every Hummer.
Why do you drive like an asshole, Mr. Hummer driver? I have so many theories. Lets start with this: you bought a Hummer because you think it sounds like a euphemism for a blow job. Dude, its not. Let's just be clear. The only people who talk about hummers as blow jobs are boys in high school who get to school and say to their buddies "Dude, I got a hummer last night." Seriously, no one older than 17 calls it a hummer. So your alleged euphemism is a crock of crap. That's right - it is crock o'crap.
So, the other reason you bought a Hummer, speaking of hummers, is that you have a small member. Yes, I said it. You are Captain Tiny Dick. You had to break out the microscope to find it. So, how do you compensate? You bought the biggest freaking car they made and you drive it like crap. Of course. That is what everyone does when they can't get a hummer. They buy a Hummer. Heck, if Hummer still existed, then that would be a great tag line: "Can't get a hummer at home, come buy a Hummer from Hummer of Smallcockville." There is a reason they no longer make Hummers. Do you know what it is? All of the guys who are under 3" have already bought them. No one else would ever buy one. DUH!
Okay, so BMW drivers will get a pass tonight. Although, I still don't understand the appeal of a 1-series. I know. You want a BMW. So instead of busting your ass, saving up and buying a 3 series or a 5 series, you buy the piece of crap 1 series that costs as much as a Hyundai. Dude, you would be better off buying a Hyundai. Then you wouldn't look like a loser and you could afford the maintenance so your car doesn't fall to pieces. That would give you this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K-34Fdtg1dI (I know. I have used that video before. Deal with it.)
2. Thieves - okay. You are a jackass. You stole my kids' pumpkins. Do you know what you can do? You can kiss my white ass, you piece of crap. What kind of lowlife steals a kid's pumpkin? Seriously. How much of a loser do you have to be to do this? Seriously. In all of my life, even as a kid, I never stole anyone's pumpkins. This is just nonsense. If you need a pumpkin, ask me. I would buy one for you so you don't feel left out. If you are over 10 and you did this, you are a delinquent who should probably be sent to some island where you can't steal a little kid's pumpkin. Jackass.
3. Youth sports - look, I get we want to win. But, seriously, like this? First, stop recruiting kids to a rec team. From out of your area? Really? You need to win that badly. That is a freaking embarrassment to youth sports. You had to go and recruit kids from some place else to come play for you? Really? I can't even express how ridiculous that is. How about you learn to coach, you idiot? I mean, I know you can't kick a ball to save your life. But that doesn't mean you should bend the rules to win.
Speaking of winning, 9-0 is an appropriate final score? For who? Look, I have won games by a lot. And I have lost games by a lot. I would NEVER, EVER let my team win by that much. Ever. In fact, I have bent over backwards to keep games close. It doesn't have to be 2-0, but if you get up by 4, you stop scoring. Or you let them score.
Do you know who does this? People who have never won. Seriously. Think about it. If you are reading this and you have won at sports, would you ever let your team run up the score in a rec game of any sport? No. Why? Because you have felt the lows of losing and the highs of winning. You would never want to be "that guy" because you understand its about the kids.
But if you are a dickface who has run up the score in a recreational game, did you ever win at sports? NO! How do I know this? Because if you did, you would never run up the score on a team. You understand better. Seriously, I would like to take every soccer coach who runs up the score out to a field and let them play 1 v 1 with me. It would be less about how badly I beat them and more about how much I showed them about how much it sucks when you are outclassed. I may not be the best player, but I would whup any coach who runs up the score in a rec game. Fucking idiots who make kids feel bad.
4. Do what you know - can we all stick to what we know? I find it funny how many people know about something so that makes them an expert in everything. I know like 3 things. Total. I know soccer. I know how to talk. I know how to.................dang it, I know 2 things. So I stick to those two things. You don't see me out coaching baseball or basketball. You don't see me teaching sign language. Why?
Because people are supposed to stick with what they know. So you are a teacher? Great. That doesn't mean you know how to tell me how to parent my kid. I am glad you think you do, but teachers aren't always parents and parents aren't always teachers. So you teach, I will parent and we will get along fine.
And it isn't just teachers. A lot of people do this. I am glad you are so confident in what you do that you think you can be everything to everyone. You can't. So stop. Please?
5. Speaking of parenting, can we stop telling people how to parent their kids? You don't know my kids. I don't know your kids. I promise you I won't tell you how to parent your kids if you will shut the fuck up about how to parent my kids. I am not perfect. I am not even close to perfect. But I try. And isn't that all we ask? Try to do the best job you can do. But lets all butt out and let parents parent while we stop criticizing!
Okay, there. I said it. At least, for tonight. I am sure there will be more to come at some point - soon!
1. Hummers and BMWs - no, not every Hummer and BMW. Wait, let me rephrase that. Not every BMW. But every Hummer.
Why do you drive like an asshole, Mr. Hummer driver? I have so many theories. Lets start with this: you bought a Hummer because you think it sounds like a euphemism for a blow job. Dude, its not. Let's just be clear. The only people who talk about hummers as blow jobs are boys in high school who get to school and say to their buddies "Dude, I got a hummer last night." Seriously, no one older than 17 calls it a hummer. So your alleged euphemism is a crock of crap. That's right - it is crock o'crap.
So, the other reason you bought a Hummer, speaking of hummers, is that you have a small member. Yes, I said it. You are Captain Tiny Dick. You had to break out the microscope to find it. So, how do you compensate? You bought the biggest freaking car they made and you drive it like crap. Of course. That is what everyone does when they can't get a hummer. They buy a Hummer. Heck, if Hummer still existed, then that would be a great tag line: "Can't get a hummer at home, come buy a Hummer from Hummer of Smallcockville." There is a reason they no longer make Hummers. Do you know what it is? All of the guys who are under 3" have already bought them. No one else would ever buy one. DUH!
Okay, so BMW drivers will get a pass tonight. Although, I still don't understand the appeal of a 1-series. I know. You want a BMW. So instead of busting your ass, saving up and buying a 3 series or a 5 series, you buy the piece of crap 1 series that costs as much as a Hyundai. Dude, you would be better off buying a Hyundai. Then you wouldn't look like a loser and you could afford the maintenance so your car doesn't fall to pieces. That would give you this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K-34Fdtg1dI (I know. I have used that video before. Deal with it.)
2. Thieves - okay. You are a jackass. You stole my kids' pumpkins. Do you know what you can do? You can kiss my white ass, you piece of crap. What kind of lowlife steals a kid's pumpkin? Seriously. How much of a loser do you have to be to do this? Seriously. In all of my life, even as a kid, I never stole anyone's pumpkins. This is just nonsense. If you need a pumpkin, ask me. I would buy one for you so you don't feel left out. If you are over 10 and you did this, you are a delinquent who should probably be sent to some island where you can't steal a little kid's pumpkin. Jackass.
3. Youth sports - look, I get we want to win. But, seriously, like this? First, stop recruiting kids to a rec team. From out of your area? Really? You need to win that badly. That is a freaking embarrassment to youth sports. You had to go and recruit kids from some place else to come play for you? Really? I can't even express how ridiculous that is. How about you learn to coach, you idiot? I mean, I know you can't kick a ball to save your life. But that doesn't mean you should bend the rules to win.
Speaking of winning, 9-0 is an appropriate final score? For who? Look, I have won games by a lot. And I have lost games by a lot. I would NEVER, EVER let my team win by that much. Ever. In fact, I have bent over backwards to keep games close. It doesn't have to be 2-0, but if you get up by 4, you stop scoring. Or you let them score.
Do you know who does this? People who have never won. Seriously. Think about it. If you are reading this and you have won at sports, would you ever let your team run up the score in a rec game of any sport? No. Why? Because you have felt the lows of losing and the highs of winning. You would never want to be "that guy" because you understand its about the kids.
But if you are a dickface who has run up the score in a recreational game, did you ever win at sports? NO! How do I know this? Because if you did, you would never run up the score on a team. You understand better. Seriously, I would like to take every soccer coach who runs up the score out to a field and let them play 1 v 1 with me. It would be less about how badly I beat them and more about how much I showed them about how much it sucks when you are outclassed. I may not be the best player, but I would whup any coach who runs up the score in a rec game. Fucking idiots who make kids feel bad.
4. Do what you know - can we all stick to what we know? I find it funny how many people know about something so that makes them an expert in everything. I know like 3 things. Total. I know soccer. I know how to talk. I know how to.................dang it, I know 2 things. So I stick to those two things. You don't see me out coaching baseball or basketball. You don't see me teaching sign language. Why?
Because people are supposed to stick with what they know. So you are a teacher? Great. That doesn't mean you know how to tell me how to parent my kid. I am glad you think you do, but teachers aren't always parents and parents aren't always teachers. So you teach, I will parent and we will get along fine.
And it isn't just teachers. A lot of people do this. I am glad you are so confident in what you do that you think you can be everything to everyone. You can't. So stop. Please?
5. Speaking of parenting, can we stop telling people how to parent their kids? You don't know my kids. I don't know your kids. I promise you I won't tell you how to parent your kids if you will shut the fuck up about how to parent my kids. I am not perfect. I am not even close to perfect. But I try. And isn't that all we ask? Try to do the best job you can do. But lets all butt out and let parents parent while we stop criticizing!
Okay, there. I said it. At least, for tonight. I am sure there will be more to come at some point - soon!
Wednesday, October 2, 2013
On making decisions...........
I was really trying to make October a positive month. I thought I could do it. I made it all of one day. It was literally like 24 hours. It started because I was in a bit of a funk. I didn't know what was wrong. I was talking to a guy I know and he helped. And then..................
Then I realized people suck. All people. I think its just inherent in human nature. Maybe that is too harsh. People are neither inherently good nor inherently bad. People are inherently interested in what is best for them. So people make decisions based on what they think is best for them. Secondary considerations do not matter.
It takes a person to make a conscious effort to stop and think "How might this affect someone else?" It takes more of an effort to think "How could this be a positive thing?" and "How could this be a negative thing?"
Think about it. It is almost lunch time. Most people are thinking "What do I want for lunch?" It is an easy question. It is also, by its nature, only about you. It is not about anyone else. Look at it again. It doesn't ask what does your coworker want for lunch. It asks simply what do you want for lunch.
Now, what you have for lunch, may be none of my business. It probably is none of my business. I get that. But, your decision could have an impact on other people. For example, what about Suzie, sitting in her cubicle? Has anyone asked what she wants for lunch? It may not be the act of having lunch with Suzie that makes a hill of beans of difference in her life. It may be the act of ASKING that makes a difference. Maybe Suzie is a bitch. Maybe she smells. Maybe she doesn't shower. And, maybe, just maybe, she couldn't afford to buy soap or her washing machine broke and she can't get to the laundromat. Maybe she feels bad and stays to herself because of it. And, maybe she just wants someone to invite her, even though she woudn't go. So the fact that you don't ask, can have a negative impact on someone else. Do you HAVE to ask? Nope. Should you ask? Yep.
Of course, if you ask, maybe you find out that Suzie's husband is sick. Or her car broke down. Or her child is struggling in school. Maybe you find out something simple, like Suzie needs someone to cover her for an hour next Friday. And maybe that is something you can do. But you only find out if you ask because Suzie is too shy/embarrassed/whatever to ask.
Look, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that the world is a small place. It gets smaller with technology. 10 years ago, no one would read this. Hell, today no one is probably reading this. But, someone may stumble upon it. With Twitter and Facebook and Instagram and Pinterest and whatever else is out there, its easy for people to figure out what is going on in your life and for you to see what is going on in their lives.
So maybe now, more than ever, it would make the world a better place if we all stopped and thought "What about someone else?" Would it be nice if we did it with every decision? Probably, but that is also unrealistic. So, maybe we just start small, with one decision. Maybe we just think about our friends and family when we make decisions.
Or, as is more likely, maybe I am just full of some naive view of the world and no one will listen.
Then I realized people suck. All people. I think its just inherent in human nature. Maybe that is too harsh. People are neither inherently good nor inherently bad. People are inherently interested in what is best for them. So people make decisions based on what they think is best for them. Secondary considerations do not matter.
It takes a person to make a conscious effort to stop and think "How might this affect someone else?" It takes more of an effort to think "How could this be a positive thing?" and "How could this be a negative thing?"
Think about it. It is almost lunch time. Most people are thinking "What do I want for lunch?" It is an easy question. It is also, by its nature, only about you. It is not about anyone else. Look at it again. It doesn't ask what does your coworker want for lunch. It asks simply what do you want for lunch.
Now, what you have for lunch, may be none of my business. It probably is none of my business. I get that. But, your decision could have an impact on other people. For example, what about Suzie, sitting in her cubicle? Has anyone asked what she wants for lunch? It may not be the act of having lunch with Suzie that makes a hill of beans of difference in her life. It may be the act of ASKING that makes a difference. Maybe Suzie is a bitch. Maybe she smells. Maybe she doesn't shower. And, maybe, just maybe, she couldn't afford to buy soap or her washing machine broke and she can't get to the laundromat. Maybe she feels bad and stays to herself because of it. And, maybe she just wants someone to invite her, even though she woudn't go. So the fact that you don't ask, can have a negative impact on someone else. Do you HAVE to ask? Nope. Should you ask? Yep.
Of course, if you ask, maybe you find out that Suzie's husband is sick. Or her car broke down. Or her child is struggling in school. Maybe you find out something simple, like Suzie needs someone to cover her for an hour next Friday. And maybe that is something you can do. But you only find out if you ask because Suzie is too shy/embarrassed/whatever to ask.
Look, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that the world is a small place. It gets smaller with technology. 10 years ago, no one would read this. Hell, today no one is probably reading this. But, someone may stumble upon it. With Twitter and Facebook and Instagram and Pinterest and whatever else is out there, its easy for people to figure out what is going on in your life and for you to see what is going on in their lives.
So maybe now, more than ever, it would make the world a better place if we all stopped and thought "What about someone else?" Would it be nice if we did it with every decision? Probably, but that is also unrealistic. So, maybe we just start small, with one decision. Maybe we just think about our friends and family when we make decisions.
Or, as is more likely, maybe I am just full of some naive view of the world and no one will listen.
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
An Ode to Soccer
I read this again last night and tonight: http://randomrants08.blogspot.com/2012/11/sunday-soccer.html It makes me happy. Maybe not happy. It comforts me. Maybe that isn't the right word either. It does something.
But how did I get there? What was it that brought me to that place, that group, that time? How did I, all of those years ago, end up at a park that most people can't spell, during the hottest part of the day in the summer, with a group of people I had never met before, some of whom are now young enough to be my kids?
Its been 36 years or so since I first kicked a ball. 36 years falls, winters, springs and summers of chasing a round ball on a big field. For a while, the point was to kick the ball into the other team's goal. Lately, the point has been to run around a big field, run my mouth, teach the kids, and enjoy that 90 minutes when no one can bother me, no one can bug me, no problems can exist.
My dad started my soccer playing. He taught me the basics. How to kick a ball. How to trap a ball. How to play the game.
My teammates taught me more. They taught me how to play together. They taught me how to work as a group to achieve a common goal. They reminded me that it wasn't what happened, as much as that it happened. I look back, fondly, on the time I played with my team.
We were young. We were small. I don't know if we fully appreciated the sacrifices our parents made so we could play. We traveled a lot.We made memories, memories that we did not fully appreciate until we were older. Now, in our late 30s, early 40s, we have reconnected and rekindled those memories.
Now, soccer is a connection between my son and I. All of them. They all played. And while only my middle son continues to play, I can still talk soccer with any of them. Even my daughter, at age 3, will talk soccer with me. Its great.
But, it is so much more. Sunday, I went to my soccer game. I was grumpy. I was not in a good mood at all. I got there. I started to warm up. A guy drove up. He did something (I can't share what he did since some people may not approve of it.) Immediately, I broke into laughter. He laughed. It lightened the mood. It started putting me in a better mood. I realized that no matter what happens, for that 90 minutes a week, there are no problems. There can't be problems. I simply can't worry about the rest of the world when grown men are kicking a ball at me, running at me, and putting a shoulder into me. Well, I could, but that would probably result in me getting hurt.
Today, I had practice for my U14 team. We had a guest show up. He plays with me. He is getting ready to tryout for a professional team. My boys, wonderfully, stepped up to the challenge. We had a great practice. The music was playing. The boys were running. The old coach (me) got into the goal and started making saves. We scrimmaged. We ran. We did drills that I haven't done since I was 11 years old playing for the Freehold Thunder.
Soccer connects me to my dad. It connects me to my kids. It connects me to guys I haven't seen in over 25 years. It connects me to guys I see every week, guys from the US, and guys from around the world. Soccer gives me a few hours a week where my problems simply disappear.
So thank you. Thank you to the guys who grew up playing with me. Thank you to the kids I have coached. Thank you to the guys who play with me now, putting up with my mouth, my jokes, both appropriate and not so appropriate, and my decreasing skill! Thank you to soccer!
But how did I get there? What was it that brought me to that place, that group, that time? How did I, all of those years ago, end up at a park that most people can't spell, during the hottest part of the day in the summer, with a group of people I had never met before, some of whom are now young enough to be my kids?
Its been 36 years or so since I first kicked a ball. 36 years falls, winters, springs and summers of chasing a round ball on a big field. For a while, the point was to kick the ball into the other team's goal. Lately, the point has been to run around a big field, run my mouth, teach the kids, and enjoy that 90 minutes when no one can bother me, no one can bug me, no problems can exist.
My dad started my soccer playing. He taught me the basics. How to kick a ball. How to trap a ball. How to play the game.
My teammates taught me more. They taught me how to play together. They taught me how to work as a group to achieve a common goal. They reminded me that it wasn't what happened, as much as that it happened. I look back, fondly, on the time I played with my team.
We were young. We were small. I don't know if we fully appreciated the sacrifices our parents made so we could play. We traveled a lot.We made memories, memories that we did not fully appreciate until we were older. Now, in our late 30s, early 40s, we have reconnected and rekindled those memories.
Now, soccer is a connection between my son and I. All of them. They all played. And while only my middle son continues to play, I can still talk soccer with any of them. Even my daughter, at age 3, will talk soccer with me. Its great.
But, it is so much more. Sunday, I went to my soccer game. I was grumpy. I was not in a good mood at all. I got there. I started to warm up. A guy drove up. He did something (I can't share what he did since some people may not approve of it.) Immediately, I broke into laughter. He laughed. It lightened the mood. It started putting me in a better mood. I realized that no matter what happens, for that 90 minutes a week, there are no problems. There can't be problems. I simply can't worry about the rest of the world when grown men are kicking a ball at me, running at me, and putting a shoulder into me. Well, I could, but that would probably result in me getting hurt.
Today, I had practice for my U14 team. We had a guest show up. He plays with me. He is getting ready to tryout for a professional team. My boys, wonderfully, stepped up to the challenge. We had a great practice. The music was playing. The boys were running. The old coach (me) got into the goal and started making saves. We scrimmaged. We ran. We did drills that I haven't done since I was 11 years old playing for the Freehold Thunder.
Soccer connects me to my dad. It connects me to my kids. It connects me to guys I haven't seen in over 25 years. It connects me to guys I see every week, guys from the US, and guys from around the world. Soccer gives me a few hours a week where my problems simply disappear.
So thank you. Thank you to the guys who grew up playing with me. Thank you to the kids I have coached. Thank you to the guys who play with me now, putting up with my mouth, my jokes, both appropriate and not so appropriate, and my decreasing skill! Thank you to soccer!
Friday, September 6, 2013
An Open Letter to My Middle Son
Dear Son:
I love you. Always remember that.
I have tried to talk to you, but you don't always want to listen. This isn't surprising, I didn't always want to listen to my dad either. Why didn't I listen? I knew I was smarter than my dad. I knew he had no idea what I was going through. Oh, and I was stubborn.
Do you know why you don't listen to me? You know you are smarter than me. You know that I have no idea what you are going through. Oh, and you are stubborn.
Guess what? You are also wrong. How do I know this? I was also wrong. I know. It is stunning to hear. It stunned me when I learned I was wrong. But, it happened. I was older than you, but I realized it.
One day, I was in college. I asked my dad about a problem I was working on in economics. He closed his eyes, as he did, and a few seconds later, he gave me an answer. There was no way he could be right. You needed a book with a table to get the answer - or a computer. He had neither. He couldn't be right. Except, you know what? He nailed it. His answer was perfect. He couldn't tell me how he did it or how to get the right answer. But he got it. At that moment, my son, I realized that I was wrong.
You and I have talked about how smart my dad was. You know I think he is the smartest man I have ever met. And, quite frankly, its not even close. But, what you don't know, is that I didn't realize that at 11 or 12 or 13. I didn't realize that until I was 20.
My dad and I sat outside one day, talking. We were at Del Mar, where I learned to boogie board, and where you now learned to boogie board. He looked at me and said "I know its harder for you growing up than it was for me." I didn't understand. So I asked him. He said "Each generation it gets harder. My generation had to deal with a war, but that was about it. You have cigarettes, drugs and things like that to deal with. Those weren't problems when I was a kid. I know that its harder for you, but you can always talk to me."
Guess what, my son? I know its harder for you growing up than it was for me. You have drugs to worry about. You have cell phones, Facebook, text messages. Kids talk about things much faster than they did when I was a kid. I know its hard. But, you can always talk to me.
I know school is hard. It was hard for me. I know its tough when you are the smallest in your class. I, too, was small. I know middle school isn't easy. There is more work. There are new kids, more kids, different kids. There is puberty and all of those hormones. And there are girls! Its hard, dude. I get it.
But you know what would make it easier? If you would give in, just a little, and listen to mommy and I. We have been through middle school. We both survived. We do know what we are talking about. We just want to help you and see you succeed. I promise it won't hurt.
Give it a try, my son. You know how I tell you I am a lot like my dad? I am. But this is one way I am different. My dad helped me when I got to high school. I will tell you that story when you are older. But, in middle school, my mom and dad didn't support me like your mom and I support you. My dad was still traveling and my mom was working. Looking back, I wish they had been around more, like your mom and I are around for you. That is the biggest reason I work for myself - so I can be there for you.
Let us help you. Then, one day, you will look back and tell your kids about how they are not smarter than you, even if they think they are!
Love,
Dad
I love you. Always remember that.
I have tried to talk to you, but you don't always want to listen. This isn't surprising, I didn't always want to listen to my dad either. Why didn't I listen? I knew I was smarter than my dad. I knew he had no idea what I was going through. Oh, and I was stubborn.
Do you know why you don't listen to me? You know you are smarter than me. You know that I have no idea what you are going through. Oh, and you are stubborn.
Guess what? You are also wrong. How do I know this? I was also wrong. I know. It is stunning to hear. It stunned me when I learned I was wrong. But, it happened. I was older than you, but I realized it.
One day, I was in college. I asked my dad about a problem I was working on in economics. He closed his eyes, as he did, and a few seconds later, he gave me an answer. There was no way he could be right. You needed a book with a table to get the answer - or a computer. He had neither. He couldn't be right. Except, you know what? He nailed it. His answer was perfect. He couldn't tell me how he did it or how to get the right answer. But he got it. At that moment, my son, I realized that I was wrong.
You and I have talked about how smart my dad was. You know I think he is the smartest man I have ever met. And, quite frankly, its not even close. But, what you don't know, is that I didn't realize that at 11 or 12 or 13. I didn't realize that until I was 20.
My dad and I sat outside one day, talking. We were at Del Mar, where I learned to boogie board, and where you now learned to boogie board. He looked at me and said "I know its harder for you growing up than it was for me." I didn't understand. So I asked him. He said "Each generation it gets harder. My generation had to deal with a war, but that was about it. You have cigarettes, drugs and things like that to deal with. Those weren't problems when I was a kid. I know that its harder for you, but you can always talk to me."
Guess what, my son? I know its harder for you growing up than it was for me. You have drugs to worry about. You have cell phones, Facebook, text messages. Kids talk about things much faster than they did when I was a kid. I know its hard. But, you can always talk to me.
I know school is hard. It was hard for me. I know its tough when you are the smallest in your class. I, too, was small. I know middle school isn't easy. There is more work. There are new kids, more kids, different kids. There is puberty and all of those hormones. And there are girls! Its hard, dude. I get it.
But you know what would make it easier? If you would give in, just a little, and listen to mommy and I. We have been through middle school. We both survived. We do know what we are talking about. We just want to help you and see you succeed. I promise it won't hurt.
Give it a try, my son. You know how I tell you I am a lot like my dad? I am. But this is one way I am different. My dad helped me when I got to high school. I will tell you that story when you are older. But, in middle school, my mom and dad didn't support me like your mom and I support you. My dad was still traveling and my mom was working. Looking back, I wish they had been around more, like your mom and I are around for you. That is the biggest reason I work for myself - so I can be there for you.
Let us help you. Then, one day, you will look back and tell your kids about how they are not smarter than you, even if they think they are!
Love,
Dad
Friday, August 30, 2013
No, the world is not against you
I was going to write something funny. A parody of some dumbass doing some dumbass thing like racing their dumbass POC car up and down the road. Or maybe it was going to be a parody of a mayor who thinks his bleep don't stink. But, alas, someone ticked me off. So here goes.....
Look, not everyone in the world is against you. Not everyone is out to get you. Sometimes, some things just happen. That doesn't mean that people hate you or your (fill in the blank minority issue).
Huh, you ask? I know. That is what I ask. I admit I am not black or brown or yellow or purple. I sit in my office as a white guy who has never been pulled over for DWB. But, I am a short, white, Jewish guy. So, don't tell me I don't know what its like when people make comments or say something dumb or do something dumb. Do you know how many people have said they don't want someone to "Jew them down." So, I have some basis for saying this.
Scheduling an event on Christmas or Easter or Martin Luther King's birthday or Columbus day or fill in the blank day does not mean that people hate Christians or black's or Europeans. You know what it means? It means its 2013 and we should stop worrying so much about this crap.
Yes, I am fully aware that there are events scheduled for Jewish holidays. And you know what? It happens. It doesn't mean anyone has down anything wrong. It means that sometimes in society we have to make choices. Not just me, not just you, but all of us. Look, no one is anti-Jewish for doing things on a Friday night or on Hannukah. They have to look at a schedule and make decisions as to what is best for everyone.
If you don't like it, here are a few suggestions:
1. Get involved. You don't really have a right to complain if you are sitting on your ass just complaining. Get up. Get off the couch. Put down the bon-bons and get involved. Oh wait? You want to go with the "I work" excuse. Sure. Great. I am glad you have a job. So do the other people who are volunteering to put events on, to support your kids, to make sure that fundraisers happen. I don't care that you have a job. I have a job and twice a week I manage to get to the field in time to coach 15 kids, only one of whom is mine!
2. Explain your position without accusing people. Look, you don't like it? Fine. Say something. But don't tell someone they are forcing you to make a decision or forcing your kid to make a decision. I studied economics in college. Economics is the study of decision making. You have to make a decision. What is the most important thing when you have two choices? Maybe you decided that your race/religion/color/creed/sexual orientation is more important. That is your choice and I will defend your right to make that choice. But not everyone is going to agree with you. Some of us are going to choose something different. And that isn't wrong either.
And what do you tell your kid? Look, kid, sometimes in life we have to make decisions. This doesn't mean that Johnny's decision is right or wrong. It means Johnny has to decide what is best for him and he chose X. I am choosing Y. Let me explain to you why. That is how you raise a kid who can think for himself and won't be a follower.
3. Stop assuming the worst in people. The world would be a much better place if everyone would assume the best in each other instead of the worst. Those kids walking down the street? They may not be thugs, George Zimmerman. The kid who yells out in public may not be a brat, but may have a condition that makes that happen. The guy who decides to stop working may be sick or may have a sick family member. Lets start assuming the best in people, instead of the worst!
There, now I feel bad. Maybe next week I will go mock some douchebag who races his douche car down the street!
Look, not everyone in the world is against you. Not everyone is out to get you. Sometimes, some things just happen. That doesn't mean that people hate you or your (fill in the blank minority issue).
Huh, you ask? I know. That is what I ask. I admit I am not black or brown or yellow or purple. I sit in my office as a white guy who has never been pulled over for DWB. But, I am a short, white, Jewish guy. So, don't tell me I don't know what its like when people make comments or say something dumb or do something dumb. Do you know how many people have said they don't want someone to "Jew them down." So, I have some basis for saying this.
Scheduling an event on Christmas or Easter or Martin Luther King's birthday or Columbus day or fill in the blank day does not mean that people hate Christians or black's or Europeans. You know what it means? It means its 2013 and we should stop worrying so much about this crap.
Yes, I am fully aware that there are events scheduled for Jewish holidays. And you know what? It happens. It doesn't mean anyone has down anything wrong. It means that sometimes in society we have to make choices. Not just me, not just you, but all of us. Look, no one is anti-Jewish for doing things on a Friday night or on Hannukah. They have to look at a schedule and make decisions as to what is best for everyone.
If you don't like it, here are a few suggestions:
1. Get involved. You don't really have a right to complain if you are sitting on your ass just complaining. Get up. Get off the couch. Put down the bon-bons and get involved. Oh wait? You want to go with the "I work" excuse. Sure. Great. I am glad you have a job. So do the other people who are volunteering to put events on, to support your kids, to make sure that fundraisers happen. I don't care that you have a job. I have a job and twice a week I manage to get to the field in time to coach 15 kids, only one of whom is mine!
2. Explain your position without accusing people. Look, you don't like it? Fine. Say something. But don't tell someone they are forcing you to make a decision or forcing your kid to make a decision. I studied economics in college. Economics is the study of decision making. You have to make a decision. What is the most important thing when you have two choices? Maybe you decided that your race/religion/color/creed/sexual orientation is more important. That is your choice and I will defend your right to make that choice. But not everyone is going to agree with you. Some of us are going to choose something different. And that isn't wrong either.
And what do you tell your kid? Look, kid, sometimes in life we have to make decisions. This doesn't mean that Johnny's decision is right or wrong. It means Johnny has to decide what is best for him and he chose X. I am choosing Y. Let me explain to you why. That is how you raise a kid who can think for himself and won't be a follower.
3. Stop assuming the worst in people. The world would be a much better place if everyone would assume the best in each other instead of the worst. Those kids walking down the street? They may not be thugs, George Zimmerman. The kid who yells out in public may not be a brat, but may have a condition that makes that happen. The guy who decides to stop working may be sick or may have a sick family member. Lets start assuming the best in people, instead of the worst!
There, now I feel bad. Maybe next week I will go mock some douchebag who races his douche car down the street!
Thursday, August 1, 2013
We need to teach kids to jump
Sen Ted Lieu is a moron. Wait, that is not right. A moron wouldn't even do what he does. This guy might be the worst legislator ever. Seriously.
He has introduced a new bill to regulate trampoline places. You know, those places you go where your kids jump on a trampoline. They jump, they play games, then they jump some more. Apparently, Lieu took his son to one of these places. And now has decided these places need to be regulated. From the Sacramento Bee "There was no training of any kind...." That's right, folks, there was no training on how to jump on a trampoline.
Stop the presses! You mean kids don't know how to jump. Up. Down. Up. Down. My 3 year old has figured out how to jump on a trampoline. Its a freaking trampoline. Its not rocket science. Its not like we are asking the kids to ride a bike or drive a car. Its jumping. UP AND DOWN! Seriously. Training? What kind of training do you need?
The following conversation will happen if this idiotic, moronic, not worth the paper it is written on law is passed:
Some 18 year old acne covered kid at a trampoline place: "Hey, kids, come over here. Before you jump up and down, I need to train you on how to jump up and down. First, you stand with both of your legs on the trampoline. Then, you bend your knees, and push off the ground with both legs. You will then be in the air. When you are coming down, you will bend your knees again and land on both feet. If you don't land on both feet, you will fall on our fabric. Yes, kids, its fabric. It will feel like a short carpet. Then you will bounce a time or two. Then get on your feet and jump again. Any questions?"
Some 10 year old kid who is bored and checking out the 11 year old girl next to him: "Um, sir, I don't get it. I need to jump. Up? Then land?"
18 year old who is making $8.50 an hour and wants to be out kissing his girlfriend: "Yes, kid, you do."
10 year old trying to be cool in front of his friends: "Holy crap. You just wasted 5 minutes telling me how to jump. I am 10 years old. I needed someone to tell me how to jump? Are you kidding me? Its a trampoline. Who needs training on a trampoline?"
18 year old kid now wanting to yell at the 10 year old, but who knows he will get even during dodge ball: "Well, kid, it is required by law. If you don't like it, talk to your legislator."
Seriously, what the hell is this? Kids need training on how to jump? Really? Is this grandstanding because Lieu wants to run for a new office next year? Or is he serious that kids need training on how to jump? What's next?
I propose the following laws:
1. Kids shall not be allowed to swing on a swingset, be it a private one, one at school, or one at a public park without getting 2 hours of training in swing safety, including how to hold on to the chains, how to sit safely in the swing, proper technique on kicking their legs out and bringing their legs back in;
2. Kids shall not be allowed to slide down any slide, be it a private one, one at school, one at a park, a dry one or a water one, without getting an hour of slide safety, including how to sit on a slide, how to get on the slide and how to get off the slide. If the kid wants to go down a water slide, they must also get 1 hour of safety on how to put on a bathing suit;
3. Kids shall not be allowed to walk down the sidewalk without getting at least 3 hours of training in how to be safe on a sidewalk, proper walking technique so they do not injure their legs, knees, arms, shoulders, backs, butts, or any other body part. Such training shall include the best method to walk like you are an Egyptian;
4. Kids shall not be allowed to play any sport without obtaining at least 10 hours of training from someone who is an expert and has spent at least 10,000 hours learning the sport plus another 10,000 hours learning how to teach the sport as those numbers are the minimum required to obtain proficiency according to some douchebag who thinks its a rule;
5. Kids shall not eat food except under adult supervision when said adult has either procreated to create a kid or has received specialized training from the Department of Education on how to teach kids to eat food, chew their food properly and swallow (not that kind of swallowing, get your heads out of the gutter!).
I am sure I can come up with more. Heck, I am sure Ted Lieu has already come up with more stupid ideas on things we can regulate. How about if we regulate breathing? How about if you introduce a dumb law in the legislature you don't get paid for a year? This might be the worst bill ever introduced and its an embarrassment to the entire state!
He has introduced a new bill to regulate trampoline places. You know, those places you go where your kids jump on a trampoline. They jump, they play games, then they jump some more. Apparently, Lieu took his son to one of these places. And now has decided these places need to be regulated. From the Sacramento Bee "There was no training of any kind...." That's right, folks, there was no training on how to jump on a trampoline.
Stop the presses! You mean kids don't know how to jump. Up. Down. Up. Down. My 3 year old has figured out how to jump on a trampoline. Its a freaking trampoline. Its not rocket science. Its not like we are asking the kids to ride a bike or drive a car. Its jumping. UP AND DOWN! Seriously. Training? What kind of training do you need?
The following conversation will happen if this idiotic, moronic, not worth the paper it is written on law is passed:
Some 18 year old acne covered kid at a trampoline place: "Hey, kids, come over here. Before you jump up and down, I need to train you on how to jump up and down. First, you stand with both of your legs on the trampoline. Then, you bend your knees, and push off the ground with both legs. You will then be in the air. When you are coming down, you will bend your knees again and land on both feet. If you don't land on both feet, you will fall on our fabric. Yes, kids, its fabric. It will feel like a short carpet. Then you will bounce a time or two. Then get on your feet and jump again. Any questions?"
Some 10 year old kid who is bored and checking out the 11 year old girl next to him: "Um, sir, I don't get it. I need to jump. Up? Then land?"
18 year old who is making $8.50 an hour and wants to be out kissing his girlfriend: "Yes, kid, you do."
10 year old trying to be cool in front of his friends: "Holy crap. You just wasted 5 minutes telling me how to jump. I am 10 years old. I needed someone to tell me how to jump? Are you kidding me? Its a trampoline. Who needs training on a trampoline?"
18 year old kid now wanting to yell at the 10 year old, but who knows he will get even during dodge ball: "Well, kid, it is required by law. If you don't like it, talk to your legislator."
Seriously, what the hell is this? Kids need training on how to jump? Really? Is this grandstanding because Lieu wants to run for a new office next year? Or is he serious that kids need training on how to jump? What's next?
I propose the following laws:
1. Kids shall not be allowed to swing on a swingset, be it a private one, one at school, or one at a public park without getting 2 hours of training in swing safety, including how to hold on to the chains, how to sit safely in the swing, proper technique on kicking their legs out and bringing their legs back in;
2. Kids shall not be allowed to slide down any slide, be it a private one, one at school, one at a park, a dry one or a water one, without getting an hour of slide safety, including how to sit on a slide, how to get on the slide and how to get off the slide. If the kid wants to go down a water slide, they must also get 1 hour of safety on how to put on a bathing suit;
3. Kids shall not be allowed to walk down the sidewalk without getting at least 3 hours of training in how to be safe on a sidewalk, proper walking technique so they do not injure their legs, knees, arms, shoulders, backs, butts, or any other body part. Such training shall include the best method to walk like you are an Egyptian;
4. Kids shall not be allowed to play any sport without obtaining at least 10 hours of training from someone who is an expert and has spent at least 10,000 hours learning the sport plus another 10,000 hours learning how to teach the sport as those numbers are the minimum required to obtain proficiency according to some douchebag who thinks its a rule;
5. Kids shall not eat food except under adult supervision when said adult has either procreated to create a kid or has received specialized training from the Department of Education on how to teach kids to eat food, chew their food properly and swallow (not that kind of swallowing, get your heads out of the gutter!).
I am sure I can come up with more. Heck, I am sure Ted Lieu has already come up with more stupid ideas on things we can regulate. How about if we regulate breathing? How about if you introduce a dumb law in the legislature you don't get paid for a year? This might be the worst bill ever introduced and its an embarrassment to the entire state!
"There was no training of any kindTheee
"There was no training of any kind
"There was no training of any kind
"There was no training of any kind
Sunday, July 28, 2013
What the BLEEP is wrong with you BLEEPING BLEEPERS?
(WARNING: THIS RANT IS FILLED WITH PROFANITY. DO NOT READ IF YOU DO NOT APPROVE OF THAT LANGUAGE!)
As much as I wanted to make fun of State Sen. Ted Lieu, and I did, I am going to have to postpone that to make fun of some other douchebags first.
So I was at the park today. I was there with 6 little kids. They ranged from 2 to 14. Fine, 14 isn't little, but they were 2, 3, 4, 9, 11 and 14. So little enough! There is a nice park. There is, unfortunately, also a softball field there. As we get to the playground, there is a group of 15 guys and a few women on the softball field taking batting practice. FOR SLOW PITCH SOFTBALL!
Don't even get me started on why you need batting practice for slow pitch softball. I am pretty sure I can hit a slow pitch softball and I haven't swung a bat in over a decade. Its a freaking big yellow ball. It goes higher than your head at about 2 mph. Then it comes down and you SWING THE FUCKING BAT. Its not rocket science. Seriously, if anyone reading this is offended and thinks I can't do it, I will put up $20 to your favorite charity if I can't hit the ball 8 times out of 10. If I do it, you owe me $20 to my favorite charity. Any takers? OF COURSE NOT! Its slow pitch softball.
Anyway, here is the conversation that I had the joy of listening to:
Pitcher "Come on, bitch, lets see how you do it."
(At this point, I am looking around for a female dog, but all I see are other morons on the field.)
Batter "Fuck you man. I can hit this shit."
Pitcher "I dont think you can hit my shit."
Batter "Let me see what you got bitch."
The batter then hits the ball, a grounder, to the 3rd base side. At which point I hear "FUCK!" This is followed by a few more swings at the BIG YELLOW BALL, followed by "FUCK" a bit louder every time. After the fourth fuck, which is different from the fourth fucking, which, lets face it, would be pretty sweet, unless they are slow pitch softball dudes doing the fucking (those guys have really big guts and really small pricks), I say "Could you watch the language please? There are little kids over here."
One would then realize that I am a moron. Why would softball guy possibly watch his language? After all, he thinks SLOW PITCH SOFTBALL is a sport. So the douchebag batter, dressed in his red t-shirt, shorts that go way past his knees and look like he is wearing kulat pants, and matching red shoes (yes, softball dude has his shoes match his oversized t-shirt which is covering his oversized gut), with his red hat, turned backwards of course, yells "FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!" Then he takes another swing, hits another ball like he is a 10 year old girl, wait, that isn't nice to 10 year old girls, I am sure some of them can hit the ball better, and does it again. And again. And again. He apparently thought this was funny.
Let me be clear. I have some friends who play slow pitch softball. They are nice guys. These idiots are completely different. Here is your average slow pitch softball idiot who drops the f-bomb after every swing of his bat:
He is about 27 years old, not surprisingly single, he wears a 42 inch waist on his capris, er, shorts, he has at least one Home Depot orange bucket of balls to make up for his own lack of balls, 6 bats in a special bag in case he breaks AN ALUMINUM BAT, has a 2" dick, and has a vocabulary so small that he is blown away that I had two different words to describe his stupidly long shorts. These guys generally dive trucks that they raised to make up for their small wieners, drive too fast to try to impress women who have no interest in them, and havent actually fucked since senior prom when they had to invite a sophomore to get a date (and to get laid). He hasn't played a sport since he was 12 and even then he sucked so badly his main job was to get water for the rest of the team.
So, dear softball fuckhead, please shut your fucking shithole of a mouth. The world would be a better place without the shit that comes out of your piece of crap mouth. You couldn't put together a complete fucking sentence if I offered you $5 and a picture of a naked lady. Hell, you haven't seen a naked lady other than on the fuck-net, er, internet, and you couldn't get laid if you paid a whore $2,000 because not even she wants your small, ball-less dick in her. So please go back to practicing your pansy-ass game without bothering the rest of the world. And, please do so quietly since even the birds fly the fuck away when you start dropping your profanity as if you are a real man. Your slow pitch softball skills suck the big one and its not even a real sport. Shut the fuck up and find something productive to do with your days!
Sincerely,
Me
As much as I wanted to make fun of State Sen. Ted Lieu, and I did, I am going to have to postpone that to make fun of some other douchebags first.
So I was at the park today. I was there with 6 little kids. They ranged from 2 to 14. Fine, 14 isn't little, but they were 2, 3, 4, 9, 11 and 14. So little enough! There is a nice park. There is, unfortunately, also a softball field there. As we get to the playground, there is a group of 15 guys and a few women on the softball field taking batting practice. FOR SLOW PITCH SOFTBALL!
Don't even get me started on why you need batting practice for slow pitch softball. I am pretty sure I can hit a slow pitch softball and I haven't swung a bat in over a decade. Its a freaking big yellow ball. It goes higher than your head at about 2 mph. Then it comes down and you SWING THE FUCKING BAT. Its not rocket science. Seriously, if anyone reading this is offended and thinks I can't do it, I will put up $20 to your favorite charity if I can't hit the ball 8 times out of 10. If I do it, you owe me $20 to my favorite charity. Any takers? OF COURSE NOT! Its slow pitch softball.
Anyway, here is the conversation that I had the joy of listening to:
Pitcher "Come on, bitch, lets see how you do it."
(At this point, I am looking around for a female dog, but all I see are other morons on the field.)
Batter "Fuck you man. I can hit this shit."
Pitcher "I dont think you can hit my shit."
Batter "Let me see what you got bitch."
The batter then hits the ball, a grounder, to the 3rd base side. At which point I hear "FUCK!" This is followed by a few more swings at the BIG YELLOW BALL, followed by "FUCK" a bit louder every time. After the fourth fuck, which is different from the fourth fucking, which, lets face it, would be pretty sweet, unless they are slow pitch softball dudes doing the fucking (those guys have really big guts and really small pricks), I say "Could you watch the language please? There are little kids over here."
One would then realize that I am a moron. Why would softball guy possibly watch his language? After all, he thinks SLOW PITCH SOFTBALL is a sport. So the douchebag batter, dressed in his red t-shirt, shorts that go way past his knees and look like he is wearing kulat pants, and matching red shoes (yes, softball dude has his shoes match his oversized t-shirt which is covering his oversized gut), with his red hat, turned backwards of course, yells "FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!" Then he takes another swing, hits another ball like he is a 10 year old girl, wait, that isn't nice to 10 year old girls, I am sure some of them can hit the ball better, and does it again. And again. And again. He apparently thought this was funny.
Let me be clear. I have some friends who play slow pitch softball. They are nice guys. These idiots are completely different. Here is your average slow pitch softball idiot who drops the f-bomb after every swing of his bat:
He is about 27 years old, not surprisingly single, he wears a 42 inch waist on his capris, er, shorts, he has at least one Home Depot orange bucket of balls to make up for his own lack of balls, 6 bats in a special bag in case he breaks AN ALUMINUM BAT, has a 2" dick, and has a vocabulary so small that he is blown away that I had two different words to describe his stupidly long shorts. These guys generally dive trucks that they raised to make up for their small wieners, drive too fast to try to impress women who have no interest in them, and havent actually fucked since senior prom when they had to invite a sophomore to get a date (and to get laid). He hasn't played a sport since he was 12 and even then he sucked so badly his main job was to get water for the rest of the team.
So, dear softball fuckhead, please shut your fucking shithole of a mouth. The world would be a better place without the shit that comes out of your piece of crap mouth. You couldn't put together a complete fucking sentence if I offered you $5 and a picture of a naked lady. Hell, you haven't seen a naked lady other than on the fuck-net, er, internet, and you couldn't get laid if you paid a whore $2,000 because not even she wants your small, ball-less dick in her. So please go back to practicing your pansy-ass game without bothering the rest of the world. And, please do so quietly since even the birds fly the fuck away when you start dropping your profanity as if you are a real man. Your slow pitch softball skills suck the big one and its not even a real sport. Shut the fuck up and find something productive to do with your days!
Sincerely,
Me
Sunday, July 21, 2013
An Actual Conversation at Nordstrom
This was an actual conversation I overheard at Nordstrom at Roseville Galleria yesterday. Let me set the scene:
A guy walks into the men's department. Our hero, as we will call him, is wearing Reef sandals, the green ones with soccer balls on them, khaki shorts, and a black t-shirt. He is alone, checking out the sale items. He spends about 5 minutes walking through the department, looking at the shirts and pants. There are employees around. He walks up to a table of AG Jeans. He starts to peruse the selection. He looks left - nothing. He looks right - two employees talking about the weather, a coworker or other such nonsense.He looks left again - still nothing. He looks right again - two employees are still talking about the weather, a coworker or more nonsense. They look up, he gets a feeling of hope. They look at him, turn slightly, and continue their conversation.
Hero: "Gosh, I wish I could get some help............"
Employee: (DEAD SILENCE)
Employee 2: (DEAD SILENCE)
Employee 3: (DEAD SILENCE)
Employee 4: (DEAD SILENCE)
Employee 5: (DEAD SILENCE)
Our hero leaves, emptyhanded, solely because he cannot get someone to help him figure out which freaking pants are loose fit!
Yes, lets be clear. There was a guy in a store that sells ridiculously expensive jeans. He was looking to buy a pair. But, since jeans aren't called "loose fit" or "relaxed fit" anymore, but rather have names like "The Smith" or "The Barnaby Jones" or "The Bieber" (okay, fine, so the 90 year old would know that The Bieber is a ridiculously skinny pair of skinny jeans that no man should wear), he couldn't figure out which pair to buy. He needed help. That is, at least in this man's opinion, the job of the employee.
I don't care if someone comes in an $800 suit or a $10 t-shirt and shorts, they should get the same help. But, alas, this doesn't seem to be the case. So, at least for now, our hero will be looking elsewhere for his jeans!
A guy walks into the men's department. Our hero, as we will call him, is wearing Reef sandals, the green ones with soccer balls on them, khaki shorts, and a black t-shirt. He is alone, checking out the sale items. He spends about 5 minutes walking through the department, looking at the shirts and pants. There are employees around. He walks up to a table of AG Jeans. He starts to peruse the selection. He looks left - nothing. He looks right - two employees talking about the weather, a coworker or other such nonsense.He looks left again - still nothing. He looks right again - two employees are still talking about the weather, a coworker or more nonsense. They look up, he gets a feeling of hope. They look at him, turn slightly, and continue their conversation.
Hero: "Gosh, I wish I could get some help............"
Employee: (DEAD SILENCE)
Employee 2: (DEAD SILENCE)
Employee 3: (DEAD SILENCE)
Employee 4: (DEAD SILENCE)
Employee 5: (DEAD SILENCE)
Our hero leaves, emptyhanded, solely because he cannot get someone to help him figure out which freaking pants are loose fit!
Yes, lets be clear. There was a guy in a store that sells ridiculously expensive jeans. He was looking to buy a pair. But, since jeans aren't called "loose fit" or "relaxed fit" anymore, but rather have names like "The Smith" or "The Barnaby Jones" or "The Bieber" (okay, fine, so the 90 year old would know that The Bieber is a ridiculously skinny pair of skinny jeans that no man should wear), he couldn't figure out which pair to buy. He needed help. That is, at least in this man's opinion, the job of the employee.
I don't care if someone comes in an $800 suit or a $10 t-shirt and shorts, they should get the same help. But, alas, this doesn't seem to be the case. So, at least for now, our hero will be looking elsewhere for his jeans!
Friday, July 12, 2013
Do you want to DOMINATE the law?
I don't either. I didn't think the law was something that was dominated. Well, maybe in San Francisco in some backroom off of a dark alley. I could see it being dominated there. You know, Mistress Beth or something like that dominating the law. Oh, don't tell me you don't get it. You get it. And its funny.
This morning I woke up to an email from the director of marketing for "Dominate Law." Their phone number is 855.2CRUSH1. How cute is that. Its like 1980 and they need an 800 number for people to call. Apparently, they think attorneys pay for their calls and we need to call a toll free number in order to save that FREE LONG DISTANCE that every person born after 1945 has. What the hell? 2 crush 1? Really? And are we supposed to remember that. This, my friends, is a sign of their marketing skills. They will help you get a memorable toll free number like 855.MYFIRMROCKS or 855.THEYSUCK or 855.IAMTHEBEST or maybe 855.IDONTPUTMYPANTSONONELEGATATIMEBECAUSEIAMAWESOME. (Wait, that could be my new favorite hashtag! #IDONTPUTMYPANTSONONELEGATATIMEBECAUSEIAMAWESOME) Maybe, they get me 855.MYSHITDONTSTINK. You see the possibilities here? I mean, I should just run right out and call them!
Then I see that they will help me crush my competition. No offense, I don't have competition. I want very specific cases. Cases that the other attorneys don't take for whatever reason. I don't compete with these folks over cases. Besides, if someone calls me and I am not the right attorney for them, I would tell them that. "Hey, look, I think you have an interesting case, but you really need to call Mr. Jones." I think give them Mr. Jones' phone number. Why? Because I am not the right attorney for everyone and they are not the right clients for me. So I dont want to crush anyone.
But, if I did want to crush anyone, would I then be a new member of Kids in the Hall? (Okay, so this reference may be a bit out there for some of you. Watch: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0eVJyYXailw and now you know where it came from!) Seriously, I am going to drop boulders on them. Am I going to use my super human strength to break them? What the hell is crushing my competition anyway?
Then they tell me I can be THE ONE dominant legal professional in my area. I can be? Really? THE ONE? Like I am now in The Matrix. I am the ONE! You are not the ONE. You must bow down and treat me as special because Dominate Law is going to make me THE ONE! I shall yell it from the rooftops. I shall be the one and only. I am special. And if you think you are the one now, you are wrong. You are going to be THE TWO once 2 CRUSH 1 happens. Don't you see how cute this is?
Seriously, its like Ron Popeil. But, wait, theres more? If you order now, we will not only make you THE ONE, but we will CRUSH anyone else. And for a limited time, we will make you DOMINATE the world. Then quietly, you hear the legalese "We may spam people from time to time to help you be the one or crush someone, but if you want to dominate, whats a little violation of the CAN SPAM act between friends?"
I mean, they found me by spamming me. I never signed up for their crappy newsletter. I never reached out to them. They emailed me offering me their ridiculous claims that I could dominate or crush or dance a jig barefoot and naked while running down I-5 in 80mph traffic and not get crushed. What the hell is wrong with these people?
Are lawyers really that dumb? Do people fall for this nonsense? Does anyone really think that some Canadian company a) knows how to crush anyone and b) can dominate at anything other than curling or most times using the word "eh" in a conversation? Seriously.
This is BS. These folks probably don't even know how to spell Stein, let alone do any marketing for me. So, Dominate Law, how about when you stop spamming people, then I will consider looking at your website for more than 2 minutes only to find reasons to mock you?
This morning I woke up to an email from the director of marketing for "Dominate Law." Their phone number is 855.2CRUSH1. How cute is that. Its like 1980 and they need an 800 number for people to call. Apparently, they think attorneys pay for their calls and we need to call a toll free number in order to save that FREE LONG DISTANCE that every person born after 1945 has. What the hell? 2 crush 1? Really? And are we supposed to remember that. This, my friends, is a sign of their marketing skills. They will help you get a memorable toll free number like 855.MYFIRMROCKS or 855.THEYSUCK or 855.IAMTHEBEST or maybe 855.IDONTPUTMYPANTSONONELEGATATIMEBECAUSEIAMAWESOME. (Wait, that could be my new favorite hashtag! #IDONTPUTMYPANTSONONELEGATATIMEBECAUSEIAMAWESOME) Maybe, they get me 855.MYSHITDONTSTINK. You see the possibilities here? I mean, I should just run right out and call them!
Then I see that they will help me crush my competition. No offense, I don't have competition. I want very specific cases. Cases that the other attorneys don't take for whatever reason. I don't compete with these folks over cases. Besides, if someone calls me and I am not the right attorney for them, I would tell them that. "Hey, look, I think you have an interesting case, but you really need to call Mr. Jones." I think give them Mr. Jones' phone number. Why? Because I am not the right attorney for everyone and they are not the right clients for me. So I dont want to crush anyone.
But, if I did want to crush anyone, would I then be a new member of Kids in the Hall? (Okay, so this reference may be a bit out there for some of you. Watch: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0eVJyYXailw and now you know where it came from!) Seriously, I am going to drop boulders on them. Am I going to use my super human strength to break them? What the hell is crushing my competition anyway?
Then they tell me I can be THE ONE dominant legal professional in my area. I can be? Really? THE ONE? Like I am now in The Matrix. I am the ONE! You are not the ONE. You must bow down and treat me as special because Dominate Law is going to make me THE ONE! I shall yell it from the rooftops. I shall be the one and only. I am special. And if you think you are the one now, you are wrong. You are going to be THE TWO once 2 CRUSH 1 happens. Don't you see how cute this is?
Seriously, its like Ron Popeil. But, wait, theres more? If you order now, we will not only make you THE ONE, but we will CRUSH anyone else. And for a limited time, we will make you DOMINATE the world. Then quietly, you hear the legalese "We may spam people from time to time to help you be the one or crush someone, but if you want to dominate, whats a little violation of the CAN SPAM act between friends?"
I mean, they found me by spamming me. I never signed up for their crappy newsletter. I never reached out to them. They emailed me offering me their ridiculous claims that I could dominate or crush or dance a jig barefoot and naked while running down I-5 in 80mph traffic and not get crushed. What the hell is wrong with these people?
Are lawyers really that dumb? Do people fall for this nonsense? Does anyone really think that some Canadian company a) knows how to crush anyone and b) can dominate at anything other than curling or most times using the word "eh" in a conversation? Seriously.
This is BS. These folks probably don't even know how to spell Stein, let alone do any marketing for me. So, Dominate Law, how about when you stop spamming people, then I will consider looking at your website for more than 2 minutes only to find reasons to mock you?
Tuesday, June 25, 2013
Hastags, Social Media and Morons - oh my
You see, I could go on a hate rant right now. I could go off on a whole bunch of dumb people and explain why I hate them. But that wouldn't be fun. I mean, anyone can do that. I think I am going to mock them instead. Isn't it more fun that way, anyway? Besides, if I don't do it, who will? If not now, then when? If not because, then why? If not this, then what? If not here, then where? If not on a blog, then how? Sorry, I thought I would start by mocking those who take things too seriously. This blog is for fun. So fun it shall be. Without further ado, here are my thoughts on hashtags and social media experts.
What the hell is up with the use of hashtags? Fine, I did a mini-rant about this on Facebook. But that is limited to people who are my friends on Facebook - all 2 of them. For the rest of you, what is the deal with #? I don't get it. Fine, if you are on twitter or instagram or Facebook even and you put "#" in front of something, it becomes some weird link and people can search for it. Great. Whatever.
The problem is that people then write sentences like this: "#I #am #a #hashtag #loser." Seriously, every word begins with the freaking hashtag. Or they do this, which is even more annoying: "#iamgoingtosqueezeallofmywordstogetherinonelongwordsonoonecanfigureoutwhatthehellthissaysandthen theyaregoingtogocrazytryingtoreadit."(Seriously, you try to type a sentence like that and see how hard it is. Your hands naturally hit the space bar after every word. And speaking of space bars, who remembers when the computer keyboard used to have "Space Bar" written on the space bar so you knew what it is? ME ME ME!)
You do know that your beloved hashtag was called a pound sign or number sign before twitter, right? Seriously, if you are not old enough to know that, you should be banned from using the stupid symbol. Stop it. Please? The world is a better place without the hashtag. Or, as you would say #yourstipudhashtagssuckandyoushouldbetakenoutbackandbeatenforoveruseofthem."
I am so sick and tired of social media experts. Everyone knows everything about social media. Really? You do? Then why does my blog on debt collectors do better than all of your crap? I seriously wrote 3 paragraphs a week ago about a phone number. A single phone number. First freaking page of Google - every time. I get more calls now about that phone number than I care to get. But you guys are the freaking experts, right?
Look, social media is interesting. It can be dynamic. But too many "experts" don't know jack about it. First, if you need to tell me you are an expert, you aren't. I can tell the people who are good at it and the people who blow chunks, yes, I said blow chunks, at it. The first sign is the dufus who tells everyone how good he is at it.
Second, if you were that good at it, you would have so much freaking money that my $50 per month budget would not be the difference between paying the mortgage and not paying the mortgage. Seriously. Its $50.
Third, I would get so much less spam than I get now. I get that you have "secret resources" that help you get email addresses. But "dude@mydomain.com" is not a valid email address. Its crap. It is you spamming me. You don't know what my email address is. You are just guessing that I have a catchall set up and I will see it. And, yes, I do have a catchall since some people can't spell my first name - which isn't that hard and is in my domain name!
Fourth, not everything has to be exploited for commercial gain. And this goes for you non-social media experts too. Look, there is more to life than making a buck. One day I may share the story of how I learned that but this is supposed to be funny, not sad, so I won't do it now. But it is okay to post things about life, having fun, enjoying things. Not everything has to be about how you can make a buck. So go screw yourselves for ruining this. Yes, screw yourself. Not someone else. Just yourself!
There, now I feel bad. #so #will #all #of #the #social #media "#experts" #go #stand #up #and #jump #in #a #lake #with #concrete #or #maybe #takealongwalkoffashortpier #or #maybe #just #GO #AWAY. (You actual folks who understand this can stay. I still like you!)
What the hell is up with the use of hashtags? Fine, I did a mini-rant about this on Facebook. But that is limited to people who are my friends on Facebook - all 2 of them. For the rest of you, what is the deal with #? I don't get it. Fine, if you are on twitter or instagram or Facebook even and you put "#" in front of something, it becomes some weird link and people can search for it. Great. Whatever.
The problem is that people then write sentences like this: "#I #am #a #hashtag #loser." Seriously, every word begins with the freaking hashtag. Or they do this, which is even more annoying: "#iamgoingtosqueezeallofmywordstogetherinonelongwordsonoonecanfigureoutwhatthehellthissaysandthen theyaregoingtogocrazytryingtoreadit."(Seriously, you try to type a sentence like that and see how hard it is. Your hands naturally hit the space bar after every word. And speaking of space bars, who remembers when the computer keyboard used to have "Space Bar" written on the space bar so you knew what it is? ME ME ME!)
You do know that your beloved hashtag was called a pound sign or number sign before twitter, right? Seriously, if you are not old enough to know that, you should be banned from using the stupid symbol. Stop it. Please? The world is a better place without the hashtag. Or, as you would say #yourstipudhashtagssuckandyoushouldbetakenoutbackandbeatenforoveruseofthem."
I am so sick and tired of social media experts. Everyone knows everything about social media. Really? You do? Then why does my blog on debt collectors do better than all of your crap? I seriously wrote 3 paragraphs a week ago about a phone number. A single phone number. First freaking page of Google - every time. I get more calls now about that phone number than I care to get. But you guys are the freaking experts, right?
Look, social media is interesting. It can be dynamic. But too many "experts" don't know jack about it. First, if you need to tell me you are an expert, you aren't. I can tell the people who are good at it and the people who blow chunks, yes, I said blow chunks, at it. The first sign is the dufus who tells everyone how good he is at it.
Second, if you were that good at it, you would have so much freaking money that my $50 per month budget would not be the difference between paying the mortgage and not paying the mortgage. Seriously. Its $50.
Third, I would get so much less spam than I get now. I get that you have "secret resources" that help you get email addresses. But "dude@mydomain.com" is not a valid email address. Its crap. It is you spamming me. You don't know what my email address is. You are just guessing that I have a catchall set up and I will see it. And, yes, I do have a catchall since some people can't spell my first name - which isn't that hard and is in my domain name!
Fourth, not everything has to be exploited for commercial gain. And this goes for you non-social media experts too. Look, there is more to life than making a buck. One day I may share the story of how I learned that but this is supposed to be funny, not sad, so I won't do it now. But it is okay to post things about life, having fun, enjoying things. Not everything has to be about how you can make a buck. So go screw yourselves for ruining this. Yes, screw yourself. Not someone else. Just yourself!
There, now I feel bad. #so #will #all #of #the #social #media "#experts" #go #stand #up #and #jump #in #a #lake #with #concrete #or #maybe #takealongwalkoffashortpier #or #maybe #just #GO #AWAY. (You actual folks who understand this can stay. I still like you!)
Monday, June 24, 2013
Another actual phone call with a dufus
See, you thought that "Actual Phone Call with a Dufus was funny," but made up. Well, here is another actual phone call with a dufus.
Dufus (D): Hi, is Johnnie there?
Me: This is Jonathan.
D: Johnnie?
Me: Sure. Why not?
D: Do you have any payday loans?
Me: Where is the kilo?
D: What?
Me: Where is the kilo?
D: What kilo?
Me: You know, the kilo. You were supposed to have the kilo by now.
D: I don't know what you are talking about.
Me: Look, he told me you would have a kilo of the good stuff. I need it now.
D: I don't have a kilo.
Me: What are we going to do now? I need that kilo.
D: Johnnie, I don't know..............
Me: Your only job was to get the kilo and you screwed that up.
(silence..........................................................way too much silence)
Me: You need to get the kilo. When are you going to have it?
D: I am not.
Me: Then what are we going to do? They expect a kilo.
D: Johnnie, I have no idea what you are talking about.
Me: You have screwed this up. All you needed to do was to get the kilo and you couldn't do that. What the fuck am I going to do now?
D: I don't know.
Me: I hope you are happy. You screwed this up...........................
(At which point I hung up to take a real call!)
Dufus (D): Hi, is Johnnie there?
Me: This is Jonathan.
D: Johnnie?
Me: Sure. Why not?
D: Do you have any payday loans?
Me: Where is the kilo?
D: What?
Me: Where is the kilo?
D: What kilo?
Me: You know, the kilo. You were supposed to have the kilo by now.
D: I don't know what you are talking about.
Me: Look, he told me you would have a kilo of the good stuff. I need it now.
D: I don't have a kilo.
Me: What are we going to do now? I need that kilo.
D: Johnnie, I don't know..............
Me: Your only job was to get the kilo and you screwed that up.
(silence..........................................................way too much silence)
Me: You need to get the kilo. When are you going to have it?
D: I am not.
Me: Then what are we going to do? They expect a kilo.
D: Johnnie, I have no idea what you are talking about.
Me: You have screwed this up. All you needed to do was to get the kilo and you couldn't do that. What the fuck am I going to do now?
D: I don't know.
Me: I hope you are happy. You screwed this up...........................
(At which point I hung up to take a real call!)
Wednesday, June 19, 2013
Actual phone call with a dufus
Okay, fine, dufus may not be politically correct. Idiot? Moron? Douchebag of epic proportions? Loser? Fool? Pick your term. Let me set the stage.............
Its May, 2013. Our hero is sitting in his office trying to work.......or trying to make it look like he is working. Either way, there is work being done. He sits alone. The office is quiet save for the really crappy music he listens to, for which he is mocked. The phone rings.
Our hero looks at the caller ID. It shows "541-200-3342." He thinks "Not this nonsense again." He contemplates pressing the reject button on his phone and letting it go to voice mail for the 1,024 time since March. But, since he isn't a huge fan of powers of 2 (do the math!), he answers it. After all, it can't be any worse than the 128 debt collectors who have been robodialing his office.
"This is Jonathan," he says with a smirk. "Hello Johnnie," says a voice that sounds like a bad Koothrappali imitation. "This is Jonathan," our hero says more sarcastically. "Hey Johnnie, this is Michael at Road to Recovery." Road to Recovery? Our hero is pretty sure he is not an alcoholic. Besides, alcoholism isn't funny. It isn't. Ever. Seriously.
"What can I help you with?" he asks. "Johnnie, do you have any payday loans?" asks the poorly spoken fraudster. "Sure," says Jonathan. "And how many do you have?" "Oh, um, 6."
Okay, so our great hero has no payday loans, but what the heck? It can't hurt to play along.
"And how much are these loans for, excluding late fees?" asks a guy who sounds like Wolowitz's bestie. "$4,000," is the sharp reply. "And are these storefront loans or online loans, Johnnie?" "Oh, storefront loans, of course."
"Great, Johnnie. We can help you consolidate your loans so you can save money." Apparently, Sheldon's bad dream hasn't realized that Jonathan is not Johnnie, but why should that stop a scam from happening? "Please hold while I connect you to the representative."
Jonathan sits on hold for about 10 seconds. A 2nd representative picks up the phone. This woman sounds like she hit the helium before picking up the phone.
"Johnnie, I understand you want to consolidate your payday loans," she starts. What she doesn't realize is that will be the last full sentence she gets out on this call.
"Help me," he says. "Help me. I need to bury the body. What are we going to do with the body?" he asks.
"What, what are............" she stammers. "The body. The dead body. I need to hide the body," Jonathan says a bit louder. "Sir, what........." she starts, but can't finish because Jonathan says "The dead body. He told me you would tell me where to hide the body. I need to hide this body."
"We can't do that............." "He told me you could. He said you would help me. What am I supposed to do with this body? I need to hide it."
"I think we should call............" is quietly heard before our hero starts in on her again. "The body. Help me hide the body. You people are useless. I need to hide the bod..................."
The call goes silent. Apparently, she couldn't help hide the body. She ended the call, her face whiter than Casper as she believed that "Johnnie" had a body to hide.
In the office, Jonathan is laughing to himself. He would laugh with someone else, but, not surprisingly, he is alone, having scared off any potential coworkers with his brusque and confrontational style coupled with his bizarre sense of humor.
Road to Recovery continues the calls...................but the body is still waiting to be hidden....................
Its May, 2013. Our hero is sitting in his office trying to work.......or trying to make it look like he is working. Either way, there is work being done. He sits alone. The office is quiet save for the really crappy music he listens to, for which he is mocked. The phone rings.
Our hero looks at the caller ID. It shows "541-200-3342." He thinks "Not this nonsense again." He contemplates pressing the reject button on his phone and letting it go to voice mail for the 1,024 time since March. But, since he isn't a huge fan of powers of 2 (do the math!), he answers it. After all, it can't be any worse than the 128 debt collectors who have been robodialing his office.
"This is Jonathan," he says with a smirk. "Hello Johnnie," says a voice that sounds like a bad Koothrappali imitation. "This is Jonathan," our hero says more sarcastically. "Hey Johnnie, this is Michael at Road to Recovery." Road to Recovery? Our hero is pretty sure he is not an alcoholic. Besides, alcoholism isn't funny. It isn't. Ever. Seriously.
"What can I help you with?" he asks. "Johnnie, do you have any payday loans?" asks the poorly spoken fraudster. "Sure," says Jonathan. "And how many do you have?" "Oh, um, 6."
Okay, so our great hero has no payday loans, but what the heck? It can't hurt to play along.
"And how much are these loans for, excluding late fees?" asks a guy who sounds like Wolowitz's bestie. "$4,000," is the sharp reply. "And are these storefront loans or online loans, Johnnie?" "Oh, storefront loans, of course."
"Great, Johnnie. We can help you consolidate your loans so you can save money." Apparently, Sheldon's bad dream hasn't realized that Jonathan is not Johnnie, but why should that stop a scam from happening? "Please hold while I connect you to the representative."
Jonathan sits on hold for about 10 seconds. A 2nd representative picks up the phone. This woman sounds like she hit the helium before picking up the phone.
"Johnnie, I understand you want to consolidate your payday loans," she starts. What she doesn't realize is that will be the last full sentence she gets out on this call.
"Help me," he says. "Help me. I need to bury the body. What are we going to do with the body?" he asks.
"What, what are............" she stammers. "The body. The dead body. I need to hide the body," Jonathan says a bit louder. "Sir, what........." she starts, but can't finish because Jonathan says "The dead body. He told me you would tell me where to hide the body. I need to hide this body."
"We can't do that............." "He told me you could. He said you would help me. What am I supposed to do with this body? I need to hide it."
"I think we should call............" is quietly heard before our hero starts in on her again. "The body. Help me hide the body. You people are useless. I need to hide the bod..................."
The call goes silent. Apparently, she couldn't help hide the body. She ended the call, her face whiter than Casper as she believed that "Johnnie" had a body to hide.
In the office, Jonathan is laughing to himself. He would laugh with someone else, but, not surprisingly, he is alone, having scared off any potential coworkers with his brusque and confrontational style coupled with his bizarre sense of humor.
Road to Recovery continues the calls...................but the body is still waiting to be hidden....................
Saturday, June 15, 2013
Butterfly kisses
This is probably pretty good listening music during this post: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BHcqaDNOqyI
I have to write this tonight while I think about it. Its been an odd week. We know two people who passed away. I was thinking about it. Trying to put it into perspective. One was 40ish. One was in her 60s. What to say? What to do? "I am sorry for your loss" seems so trite. I know. I have had to listen to people tell me that. I appreciate the expression, but it doesn't make it better.
Then I was going to write about how you need to enjoy life. Life is short. You never know when it may end. You know the cliches. There are a ton of movies about it, songs about it. I try not to write those types of things.
So tonight was the father daughter dance at the Sacramento Children's Museum. Fine, its called something else, but its a father daughter dance. It is 2 hours of my life when time stood still.
We went last year. It was their first one. My baby was 2. Dinner at IHOP followed by playing at the museum. She loved it.
This year, she was a year older, a year wiser, a year sweeter. Dinner at IHOP was followed by playing at the museum. But it was different. It was sweeter. It was more sentimental.
She shared. She took turns. She expressed herself. When someone tried to take the baby she was playing with, she stood up for herself. She was such a little person.
About an hour in, maybe a bit longer, they played that song. (If you haven't clicked the link yet, you probably should now.) I held her. I danced with her in my arms. I listened to the words. "Oh, with all that I've done wrong, I must have done something right/To deserve a hug every morning And butterfly kisses at night." For the first time in over 2 years, I had tears in my eyes in public.
She wasn't looking. But she knew. She turned towards me and, with that small, soft, sweet hand, she wiped them away. Just one little hand wiping my eyes. She smiled at me. She knew exactly what to do.
The next song came on. She stood on my feet and danced with me. She stopped about half way through the song and looked up at me. She smiled the smile of my little angel. It was the sweetest smile I have ever seen. For those few seconds, there is no one else around and my baby reminded me how amazing she is.
You see, for 2 hours tonight, I didn't have a problem in the world. I didn't have to deal with anything that was wrong. Because for 2 hours, to this little person, her world was me. Its a feeling I have never had before.
And for 6 minutes, during that 2 hours, my baby reminded me that not only did I not have a problem in the world, but that the world was a perfect place. There was nothing bad. There was nothing wrong. She reminded me I am at the place I am supposed to be at. She was never supposed to be. It just wasn't possible. But she is. I know. I saw her. I held her. I kissed her. And she reminded me.
So those cliches are right. Life is too short. You need to enjoy every minute. You never know when your time is up. But, more importantly, you have to remember to enjoy those minutes. You have to find a way, somehow, someway, to forget the bad and focus on the good. You need to find a way to do those things you said "I will do next year" and do them now, when you can, because next year is not guaranteed.
Thank you Brooklyn, for reminding me, for showing me, for being my angel tonight.
I have to write this tonight while I think about it. Its been an odd week. We know two people who passed away. I was thinking about it. Trying to put it into perspective. One was 40ish. One was in her 60s. What to say? What to do? "I am sorry for your loss" seems so trite. I know. I have had to listen to people tell me that. I appreciate the expression, but it doesn't make it better.
Then I was going to write about how you need to enjoy life. Life is short. You never know when it may end. You know the cliches. There are a ton of movies about it, songs about it. I try not to write those types of things.
So tonight was the father daughter dance at the Sacramento Children's Museum. Fine, its called something else, but its a father daughter dance. It is 2 hours of my life when time stood still.
We went last year. It was their first one. My baby was 2. Dinner at IHOP followed by playing at the museum. She loved it.
This year, she was a year older, a year wiser, a year sweeter. Dinner at IHOP was followed by playing at the museum. But it was different. It was sweeter. It was more sentimental.
She shared. She took turns. She expressed herself. When someone tried to take the baby she was playing with, she stood up for herself. She was such a little person.
About an hour in, maybe a bit longer, they played that song. (If you haven't clicked the link yet, you probably should now.) I held her. I danced with her in my arms. I listened to the words. "Oh, with all that I've done wrong, I must have done something right/To deserve a hug every morning And butterfly kisses at night." For the first time in over 2 years, I had tears in my eyes in public.
She wasn't looking. But she knew. She turned towards me and, with that small, soft, sweet hand, she wiped them away. Just one little hand wiping my eyes. She smiled at me. She knew exactly what to do.
The next song came on. She stood on my feet and danced with me. She stopped about half way through the song and looked up at me. She smiled the smile of my little angel. It was the sweetest smile I have ever seen. For those few seconds, there is no one else around and my baby reminded me how amazing she is.
You see, for 2 hours tonight, I didn't have a problem in the world. I didn't have to deal with anything that was wrong. Because for 2 hours, to this little person, her world was me. Its a feeling I have never had before.
And for 6 minutes, during that 2 hours, my baby reminded me that not only did I not have a problem in the world, but that the world was a perfect place. There was nothing bad. There was nothing wrong. She reminded me I am at the place I am supposed to be at. She was never supposed to be. It just wasn't possible. But she is. I know. I saw her. I held her. I kissed her. And she reminded me.
So those cliches are right. Life is too short. You need to enjoy every minute. You never know when your time is up. But, more importantly, you have to remember to enjoy those minutes. You have to find a way, somehow, someway, to forget the bad and focus on the good. You need to find a way to do those things you said "I will do next year" and do them now, when you can, because next year is not guaranteed.
Thank you Brooklyn, for reminding me, for showing me, for being my angel tonight.
Wednesday, June 12, 2013
Expectations
I am going to write this without a) sounding pompous or b) sounding like a jerk. At least, that is my attempt. If I fail, oh well. I tried. Life's lessons aren't based on succeeding, but based on failing. So here goes............
What the fuck is wrong with people? Why do they expect things that they are not willing to do themselves? Seriously. I don't care what you do for a living. If you want someone to do something for you, you sure as hell better be willing to do it for them. Or, as in this case, if you won't do it for me, why the hell would I do it for you?
Let me give you some background. I was hired on a case. I asked for an extension to file an answer since the client hired me the day the answer was due. A phone call and an email were sent. No response. So I pound out an answer and file it. Fine. I wasn't happy with it, but I had to get it filed. I also served discovery. These are written questions they have to answer. No big deal. Its all information they should have had before they filed the lawsuit. How hard would it be in 5 weeks to copy your file, prepare some answers and send it back? Its not that hard!
So what happens? Today they have the secretary call me. She wants an extension. I ask why. She doesn't know. She was just told to call and ask for one. I tell her that I wasn't given an extension and I am not sure why I should then give them one now. Her response is "I don't know." Fine.
So the attorney calls me. Two lessons here before I tell you the story: 1. Don't piss me off. 2. I am smarter than her. Yes, I am. I know my files. I know my clients. I know what I did. I especially know my files when I am expecting you to call me.
She says they need two weeks. No. Why do they need it? Just because. Why didn't you give me an extension? Well, she didn't know I asked for one. Of course, this was the same excuse she used on a different case with me too. So, two cases and in neither case did she see my emails. Amazing how that works. She admits it was the right email address. She just didn't see them.
Yeah, lesson #3 - don't bullshit a bullshitter. My dad taught me that. She was full of it. She saw them. She was just ignoring me. Fine. I don't care if you ignore me. Just don't be surprised when I come back at you as a jerk.
Look, I can be nice. I would give you the shirt off my back if you needed it. I prefer being nice. But if you screw with me, or you screw with my clients, or you screw with someone who shouldn't be screwed with (the disabled, folks who are down on their luck), then don't be surprised that I can be the biggest prick in the world. I can, and will, make you wish you hadn't met me.
So, she doesn't get her extension simply because she refused to give me one. And now she is going to learn how to try a case with me. She lied to me and now she will pay. Its a lot of work. Its a pain in the ass. I will do everything I can to make sure my client is protected.
The big lesson here: expect to be treated the way you treat people. If you wont' do it for me, I won't do it for you. Promise.
What the fuck is wrong with people? Why do they expect things that they are not willing to do themselves? Seriously. I don't care what you do for a living. If you want someone to do something for you, you sure as hell better be willing to do it for them. Or, as in this case, if you won't do it for me, why the hell would I do it for you?
Let me give you some background. I was hired on a case. I asked for an extension to file an answer since the client hired me the day the answer was due. A phone call and an email were sent. No response. So I pound out an answer and file it. Fine. I wasn't happy with it, but I had to get it filed. I also served discovery. These are written questions they have to answer. No big deal. Its all information they should have had before they filed the lawsuit. How hard would it be in 5 weeks to copy your file, prepare some answers and send it back? Its not that hard!
So what happens? Today they have the secretary call me. She wants an extension. I ask why. She doesn't know. She was just told to call and ask for one. I tell her that I wasn't given an extension and I am not sure why I should then give them one now. Her response is "I don't know." Fine.
So the attorney calls me. Two lessons here before I tell you the story: 1. Don't piss me off. 2. I am smarter than her. Yes, I am. I know my files. I know my clients. I know what I did. I especially know my files when I am expecting you to call me.
She says they need two weeks. No. Why do they need it? Just because. Why didn't you give me an extension? Well, she didn't know I asked for one. Of course, this was the same excuse she used on a different case with me too. So, two cases and in neither case did she see my emails. Amazing how that works. She admits it was the right email address. She just didn't see them.
Yeah, lesson #3 - don't bullshit a bullshitter. My dad taught me that. She was full of it. She saw them. She was just ignoring me. Fine. I don't care if you ignore me. Just don't be surprised when I come back at you as a jerk.
Look, I can be nice. I would give you the shirt off my back if you needed it. I prefer being nice. But if you screw with me, or you screw with my clients, or you screw with someone who shouldn't be screwed with (the disabled, folks who are down on their luck), then don't be surprised that I can be the biggest prick in the world. I can, and will, make you wish you hadn't met me.
So, she doesn't get her extension simply because she refused to give me one. And now she is going to learn how to try a case with me. She lied to me and now she will pay. Its a lot of work. Its a pain in the ass. I will do everything I can to make sure my client is protected.
The big lesson here: expect to be treated the way you treat people. If you wont' do it for me, I won't do it for you. Promise.
Wednesday, June 5, 2013
Wednesday thoughts on remembering those we have lost
Today started out with so much promise. It
was a Wednesday like any other. The boys went to school. The baby hung out at
home. I had some work to get done. All was good.
Today ended with me being sad. It was a Wednesday unlike others. People died. I guess that happens every Wednesday. Just not every Wednesday that affects me.
A friend called. Someone died. I don't know this person, but they were under 21. A life gone. So much promise. So many opportunities. So much to live for. Gone.
A friend posted on Facebook. Someone died. I don't know this person either. They were under 30. A life gone. So much promise. So many opportunities. So much to live for. Gone.
Bam. Two lives in one day. Just gone. There is no way to explain this. There is no way to make it make sense. I told one of my friends "Take some time to remember the good times. That's the best way to honor him."
Its what I do. I honor my parents. Not every day. There isn't something to do every day. But I have my ways.
I play soccer a lot of Sundays during the year. Everyone knows this. Its Sunday Soccer. Its part of me. It becomes part of us. Each Sunday, before we start, I take a moment to myself and say a few words to my dad. I have done this for 10 years now. Its my time to thank him. Every time I score, I grab a few blades of grass and toss them in the air. 2 years now. Every goal. Every time. Its my way of acknowledging them.
I know its weird. I get it. I have never told anyone this before. But I felt like now was a good time.
You see, when someone dies, a lot of us want to cry and be sad. But, it is those good memories that make the person. Its those times that we want people to remember. I have said it before, and I will say it again, when I die, I don't want a sad funeral. I want a party. If you are sad, you haven't learned from me what I have learned in my three losses: life is way too short to worry about things.
The Serenity Prayer says "God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference"
To me, it should say "God grant me the serenity to understand that life is way too short and I cannot change some things. I am not going to worry about those things. I am going to enjoy the precious years I have on Earth and worry only about things I can control."
So, take a minute today, tomorrow, the next day, and find your way of remembering someone who passed away.
Today ended with me being sad. It was a Wednesday unlike others. People died. I guess that happens every Wednesday. Just not every Wednesday that affects me.
A friend called. Someone died. I don't know this person, but they were under 21. A life gone. So much promise. So many opportunities. So much to live for. Gone.
A friend posted on Facebook. Someone died. I don't know this person either. They were under 30. A life gone. So much promise. So many opportunities. So much to live for. Gone.
Bam. Two lives in one day. Just gone. There is no way to explain this. There is no way to make it make sense. I told one of my friends "Take some time to remember the good times. That's the best way to honor him."
Its what I do. I honor my parents. Not every day. There isn't something to do every day. But I have my ways.
I play soccer a lot of Sundays during the year. Everyone knows this. Its Sunday Soccer. Its part of me. It becomes part of us. Each Sunday, before we start, I take a moment to myself and say a few words to my dad. I have done this for 10 years now. Its my time to thank him. Every time I score, I grab a few blades of grass and toss them in the air. 2 years now. Every goal. Every time. Its my way of acknowledging them.
I know its weird. I get it. I have never told anyone this before. But I felt like now was a good time.
You see, when someone dies, a lot of us want to cry and be sad. But, it is those good memories that make the person. Its those times that we want people to remember. I have said it before, and I will say it again, when I die, I don't want a sad funeral. I want a party. If you are sad, you haven't learned from me what I have learned in my three losses: life is way too short to worry about things.
The Serenity Prayer says "God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference"
To me, it should say "God grant me the serenity to understand that life is way too short and I cannot change some things. I am not going to worry about those things. I am going to enjoy the precious years I have on Earth and worry only about things I can control."
So, take a minute today, tomorrow, the next day, and find your way of remembering someone who passed away.
Thursday, May 30, 2013
You might be a Facebook douche if..............
I am sure there are more pressing issues in the world. I just don't know what they are right now. No, I don't care what Adam Levine said about hating this country. He was pissed for a minute. It happens to normal people. We make mistakes. If you are going to get on him over that, you really shouldn't read any more of what I write. Ever. Seriously.
So, without further delay, you might be a Facebook douche if...............
.......you continually post pictures of yourself. No, not the occasional picture of yourself. Not the picture of you and your kids and your family. Those are cute. The pictures of you at the gym. Or you looking intellectual. Or to make you look cool.
Let's just be clear. No one cares how much you lift, except you. If you feel the need to show us, you really aren't lifting that much. If you are showing us with a ton of weight, it was either your only rep or you know how to use photoshop. By the way, lifting a lot of weight has nothing to do with being athletic.
Oh, and you aren't intellectual. Or cool. You are a douche. You want us to think you are intellectual with the cigar, legs crossed, in an ascot. But you really should be in a sweater with a mullet. Seriously. Stop it. Please.............
You might be a Facebook douche if..................
You insist your religion is "right." It isn't. I am not saying you are wrong, but you aren't right. If you were right, don't you think in the last 2000 years, you would have been proven right. Fine, maybe my religion is right. Maybe your religion is right. Maybe Jesus is the Savior. Maybe its Muhammad. Maybe its Buddha. (Was Buddha supposed to be a savior? I apologize for my ignorance. Its what came to mind so I went with it.) But maybe not..........
Look, I appreciate you are religious. I appreciate your right to discuss your religion. I don't appreciate you constantly posting about how this person or that person is the savior. I have my beliefs. They are probably different from yours. (Just going on percentages here.) It really doesn't matter. Seriously. If your religion teaches you that I am a bad person because I don't believe what you believe, then your religion sucks. I will stick with mine. You can believe in God, Adam, Eve, or whatever. Just don't try to shove it down my throat.
You might be a Facebook douche if..................
You tell me I have to like a page for some kid with some disease. No, getting 10,00 likes isn't going to cure the kid. Liking his picture isn't going to make him feel better about himself. And, not liking it doesn't mean I am a loser or an idiot or soulless. Look, I have a list of causes I support. I have a list of people I know, personally, who could use a pick me up, a hug, a like, a whatever. I don't tell you to go like them. So, please stop telling me what pictures or causes to like. Please?
You might be a Facebook douche if..................
You start Facebook fights. You know what I mean.........you comment negatively just because. You want someone to argue with you. You like to cause drama. Drama is fine for you. Most of us don't like it. Tell your drama to your mama. Just don't bring it to Facebook. You don't look funny or witty. You look like a moron. A big moron. A loser-like moron.
Finally, you might be a Facebook douche if..................
You write fake posts. You know who you are. We all know your life really isn't that interesting. So don't pretend it is. We don't care what your fake life is like. Leave that for your fake friends. Really, its Facebook and no one cares that much. Just be you.............
Now I feel better............off to post a picture of myself lifting weights, while praying to God and telling you that you are going to hell, asking for likes for myself to stop my idiocy, then fighting with myself in my comments while making it all up................
So, without further delay, you might be a Facebook douche if...............
.......you continually post pictures of yourself. No, not the occasional picture of yourself. Not the picture of you and your kids and your family. Those are cute. The pictures of you at the gym. Or you looking intellectual. Or to make you look cool.
Let's just be clear. No one cares how much you lift, except you. If you feel the need to show us, you really aren't lifting that much. If you are showing us with a ton of weight, it was either your only rep or you know how to use photoshop. By the way, lifting a lot of weight has nothing to do with being athletic.
Oh, and you aren't intellectual. Or cool. You are a douche. You want us to think you are intellectual with the cigar, legs crossed, in an ascot. But you really should be in a sweater with a mullet. Seriously. Stop it. Please.............
You might be a Facebook douche if..................
You insist your religion is "right." It isn't. I am not saying you are wrong, but you aren't right. If you were right, don't you think in the last 2000 years, you would have been proven right. Fine, maybe my religion is right. Maybe your religion is right. Maybe Jesus is the Savior. Maybe its Muhammad. Maybe its Buddha. (Was Buddha supposed to be a savior? I apologize for my ignorance. Its what came to mind so I went with it.) But maybe not..........
Look, I appreciate you are religious. I appreciate your right to discuss your religion. I don't appreciate you constantly posting about how this person or that person is the savior. I have my beliefs. They are probably different from yours. (Just going on percentages here.) It really doesn't matter. Seriously. If your religion teaches you that I am a bad person because I don't believe what you believe, then your religion sucks. I will stick with mine. You can believe in God, Adam, Eve, or whatever. Just don't try to shove it down my throat.
You might be a Facebook douche if..................
You tell me I have to like a page for some kid with some disease. No, getting 10,00 likes isn't going to cure the kid. Liking his picture isn't going to make him feel better about himself. And, not liking it doesn't mean I am a loser or an idiot or soulless. Look, I have a list of causes I support. I have a list of people I know, personally, who could use a pick me up, a hug, a like, a whatever. I don't tell you to go like them. So, please stop telling me what pictures or causes to like. Please?
You might be a Facebook douche if..................
You start Facebook fights. You know what I mean.........you comment negatively just because. You want someone to argue with you. You like to cause drama. Drama is fine for you. Most of us don't like it. Tell your drama to your mama. Just don't bring it to Facebook. You don't look funny or witty. You look like a moron. A big moron. A loser-like moron.
Finally, you might be a Facebook douche if..................
You write fake posts. You know who you are. We all know your life really isn't that interesting. So don't pretend it is. We don't care what your fake life is like. Leave that for your fake friends. Really, its Facebook and no one cares that much. Just be you.............
Now I feel better............off to post a picture of myself lifting weights, while praying to God and telling you that you are going to hell, asking for likes for myself to stop my idiocy, then fighting with myself in my comments while making it all up................
Tuesday, May 28, 2013
Attorneys - what is in a title?
I was going to write a bad song or two because the radio these days sucks. But, then I remembered something I saw today and I just had to get this off my chest. This one is special for attorneys!
What is in a title? It is more than a name. And attorneys are the worst at using them.
Lets just be clear. Once you get a law degree, you are NOT a doctor. EVER. I know its a juris doctor. But that does not make you a doctor. It makes you a person with a law degree. You could, I guess, sign your name "Bill Smith, JD" if you wanted to. But even that is pretentious. That is obnoxious. If you insist on calling yourself doctor, then please be advised I will mock you - endlessly. You are asking for it. You are so pretentious that you might set a new record for pretentiousness. Lets knock that nonsense off now.
Now that we have that out of the way, you are not Attorney Smith now. Look, I know the old saying "When EF Hutton talks, people listen." But they listened because EF didn't go by Attorney Hutton or Investment Advisor Hutton, dude went by EF! Yes, he was ahead of his time. Just like EF Hutton, an attorney should go by Bill or William or Mr. Smith. Why? Because you are a pretentious a-hole if you go by anything else. Seriously. Attorney is not a name. It is not a title. It should not be used on your website. It should not be used in a brochure. It should not be used. Ever. Ever. Ever. to borrow shamelessly from Taylor Swift. If you think that makes you sound smart, sophisticated, intellectual or like a good attorney, you are wrong. It makes you sound pompous, idiotic, uneducated, and trying to cover up your deficiencies. SHEESH!
Finally, lets just be clear. The title Esquire is not one you give yourself. Its one someone else gives to you. So, you are not Bill Smith, Esq. You are Bill Smith. If someone else writes to you "Dear Mr. Smith, Esq" that is acceptable. But you do not sign your name with Esq at the end of it. Well, maybe if you are the managing editor of Esquire magazine. Maybe. Nope, not even then. Oh, and it is ESQ, not ESG. Yes, I saw an attorney with ESG on his sign instead of ESQ. Now you are a pompous idiot who can't get something this basic right and you don't check your work. That is sloppy.
So, lets just go back to being people. I assure you it will make the rest of the world like you significantly more than if you call yourself Doctor Smith, Attorney Smith, or Bill Smith, Esq. Of course, if you try to pull off the trip of Doctor Attorney Smith, Esq, you will forever be a failure. Forever, ever, ever..............(sorry, I had to!)
What is in a title? It is more than a name. And attorneys are the worst at using them.
Lets just be clear. Once you get a law degree, you are NOT a doctor. EVER. I know its a juris doctor. But that does not make you a doctor. It makes you a person with a law degree. You could, I guess, sign your name "Bill Smith, JD" if you wanted to. But even that is pretentious. That is obnoxious. If you insist on calling yourself doctor, then please be advised I will mock you - endlessly. You are asking for it. You are so pretentious that you might set a new record for pretentiousness. Lets knock that nonsense off now.
Now that we have that out of the way, you are not Attorney Smith now. Look, I know the old saying "When EF Hutton talks, people listen." But they listened because EF didn't go by Attorney Hutton or Investment Advisor Hutton, dude went by EF! Yes, he was ahead of his time. Just like EF Hutton, an attorney should go by Bill or William or Mr. Smith. Why? Because you are a pretentious a-hole if you go by anything else. Seriously. Attorney is not a name. It is not a title. It should not be used on your website. It should not be used in a brochure. It should not be used. Ever. Ever. Ever. to borrow shamelessly from Taylor Swift. If you think that makes you sound smart, sophisticated, intellectual or like a good attorney, you are wrong. It makes you sound pompous, idiotic, uneducated, and trying to cover up your deficiencies. SHEESH!
Finally, lets just be clear. The title Esquire is not one you give yourself. Its one someone else gives to you. So, you are not Bill Smith, Esq. You are Bill Smith. If someone else writes to you "Dear Mr. Smith, Esq" that is acceptable. But you do not sign your name with Esq at the end of it. Well, maybe if you are the managing editor of Esquire magazine. Maybe. Nope, not even then. Oh, and it is ESQ, not ESG. Yes, I saw an attorney with ESG on his sign instead of ESQ. Now you are a pompous idiot who can't get something this basic right and you don't check your work. That is sloppy.
So, lets just go back to being people. I assure you it will make the rest of the world like you significantly more than if you call yourself Doctor Smith, Attorney Smith, or Bill Smith, Esq. Of course, if you try to pull off the trip of Doctor Attorney Smith, Esq, you will forever be a failure. Forever, ever, ever..............(sorry, I had to!)
Monday, May 13, 2013
This is what it is all about
Okay, another touchy-feely post. (Or is it touchie-feelie? And does it matter?)
So, Saturday morning I get up at the crack of dawn. I take two of my boys to South Sacramento. They are going to a football training. My boys have never played organized football. Their experience, like mine, is limited to throwing the ball around when we are camping or in the front yard.
But its being run by a friend who has forgotten more about football than I have ever known. Sure, I can talk about 3-4 defenses or pass interference, but this dude coached big time college football.So it will be good. But..............................more importantly, it was a good event.
So we show up a bit early. There are a couple of coaches there. I tell my boys to go help out and get some of the equipment out. Now, I don't know a tackling dummy for a ladder, but the boys can ask questions and figure it out. I talk to a couple of the coaches. All is good.
About 7:45, all of the coaches gather. I get called over and we all introduce ourselves. You know these guys can ball when they start talking about playing at Arizona State, Louisville, etc.... Its not like they were just good high school players. Then, my friend, starts a prayer.
I don't sugar coat things on the blog. And I not said this to him so he will read it for the first time the read of you read it. Here I am, all 5'5 of me, shaved head, and white as can be. I am the only white guy there. I stand out in this group. And, I am going out on a limb here, I was the only Jewish guy in the group. Okay, so its not much of a limb. I would bet two lunches on it.
So, these guys do a prayer. I do what I do - I bow my head and pray. I have done this before. At Sunday Soccer we have stopped twice for prayers. I get it. People pray. But here is the deal - you and I may not have the same beliefs, but that doesn't mean we can't stop and share a prayer to A God, even if it is not your God or my God. We wanted the kids to be safe, for the coaches to be safe, for this to be a good thing. It was.
Then this thing starts. They warm up. They need people to sign waivers, get demographic information, etc.... Its not my "job." I am there as a dad and probably as an attorney. But it needs to be done and the nice lady who was there also had to take pictures. So, I sat down, gave the form out, got the information they needed, and entered it. Why? Because it needed to be done.
After a bit, there are some offensive drills. One group has a ton of kids. I see that one coach is trying to catch balls from two different lines. This doesn't work well. Now, there is a small group of parents watching this who clearly have played football. And they watch. And watch................and watch. But how does that help the kids? It doesn't. So out I go to catch footballs from kids who have pretty good arms. (Oh, and just so we all understand, when I jog out there, and I do jog, I call the guy running the drill "Coach." Why? Its a sign of respect and he has earned it.)
The event ended and one of the coaches talks to the kids for a few minutes about the need to listen to their parents, their coaches, their teachers. Its a quick speech. Look, it wasn't President Obama winning the election, but this kid probably hasn't given speeches to 40 or 50 people before.
So what is it all about? What is the point of my run-on nonsense?
We need to come together. You see, here was a guy who didn't grow up here, didn't play his college ball here, but came here to raise a family with his wife. He got involved in the community. He reached out to people who have skills to help him with a vision. He brought in people from all over the country, with different backgrounds, different education levels, different races, different religions with one goal - providing kids with a positive environment to learn a little football, learn a little life, and be around people who can positively effect them.
It didn't matter to me that I didn't have much in common with these guys. I never played football. I don't speak the language that some of them speak, both literally and figuratively. But, when people need help, and when the goal is the betterment of kids, then it doesn't matter. It didn't matter to me, never has/never will, and it didn't matter to them. We were all there for one goal - and we took the first step to accomplishing it.
So, to you, Coach, lelei fatongia.
So, Saturday morning I get up at the crack of dawn. I take two of my boys to South Sacramento. They are going to a football training. My boys have never played organized football. Their experience, like mine, is limited to throwing the ball around when we are camping or in the front yard.
But its being run by a friend who has forgotten more about football than I have ever known. Sure, I can talk about 3-4 defenses or pass interference, but this dude coached big time college football.So it will be good. But..............................more importantly, it was a good event.
So we show up a bit early. There are a couple of coaches there. I tell my boys to go help out and get some of the equipment out. Now, I don't know a tackling dummy for a ladder, but the boys can ask questions and figure it out. I talk to a couple of the coaches. All is good.
About 7:45, all of the coaches gather. I get called over and we all introduce ourselves. You know these guys can ball when they start talking about playing at Arizona State, Louisville, etc.... Its not like they were just good high school players. Then, my friend, starts a prayer.
I don't sugar coat things on the blog. And I not said this to him so he will read it for the first time the read of you read it. Here I am, all 5'5 of me, shaved head, and white as can be. I am the only white guy there. I stand out in this group. And, I am going out on a limb here, I was the only Jewish guy in the group. Okay, so its not much of a limb. I would bet two lunches on it.
So, these guys do a prayer. I do what I do - I bow my head and pray. I have done this before. At Sunday Soccer we have stopped twice for prayers. I get it. People pray. But here is the deal - you and I may not have the same beliefs, but that doesn't mean we can't stop and share a prayer to A God, even if it is not your God or my God. We wanted the kids to be safe, for the coaches to be safe, for this to be a good thing. It was.
Then this thing starts. They warm up. They need people to sign waivers, get demographic information, etc.... Its not my "job." I am there as a dad and probably as an attorney. But it needs to be done and the nice lady who was there also had to take pictures. So, I sat down, gave the form out, got the information they needed, and entered it. Why? Because it needed to be done.
After a bit, there are some offensive drills. One group has a ton of kids. I see that one coach is trying to catch balls from two different lines. This doesn't work well. Now, there is a small group of parents watching this who clearly have played football. And they watch. And watch................and watch. But how does that help the kids? It doesn't. So out I go to catch footballs from kids who have pretty good arms. (Oh, and just so we all understand, when I jog out there, and I do jog, I call the guy running the drill "Coach." Why? Its a sign of respect and he has earned it.)
The event ended and one of the coaches talks to the kids for a few minutes about the need to listen to their parents, their coaches, their teachers. Its a quick speech. Look, it wasn't President Obama winning the election, but this kid probably hasn't given speeches to 40 or 50 people before.
So what is it all about? What is the point of my run-on nonsense?
We need to come together. You see, here was a guy who didn't grow up here, didn't play his college ball here, but came here to raise a family with his wife. He got involved in the community. He reached out to people who have skills to help him with a vision. He brought in people from all over the country, with different backgrounds, different education levels, different races, different religions with one goal - providing kids with a positive environment to learn a little football, learn a little life, and be around people who can positively effect them.
It didn't matter to me that I didn't have much in common with these guys. I never played football. I don't speak the language that some of them speak, both literally and figuratively. But, when people need help, and when the goal is the betterment of kids, then it doesn't matter. It didn't matter to me, never has/never will, and it didn't matter to them. We were all there for one goal - and we took the first step to accomplishing it.
So, to you, Coach, lelei fatongia.
Wednesday, May 1, 2013
You might be a douche if.............
I was going to write something serious tonight, but this is, quite frankly, more fun.
You might be a douche if..............
You drive in the fast lane of a 2 lane freeway at 65mph. Seriously, folks, drive in the right lane and use the left lane for passing. Slower cars stay to the right. Move over. What the hell is the problem with people? Who drives at 65 in the fast lane of I-5 when the posted speed limit is 70?
You might be a douche if.................
You are over 25 and you care about co-ed sports. Who cares if your team has won 21 of the last 22 games? Does that mean anything to anyone? Are you so proud of your team? Do you want a freaking medal? By the way, they give you a t-shirt for winning the league. Do you wear that t-shirt with pride? I bet you do. I am pretty sure I can beat you 1 v 1 only scoring with my left leg and not crossing half field. You are the reason people think adult sports are dumb and stop playing them. You need to get your glory through recruiting college athletes to play for you so your team wins because you suck the big one. Seriously, in a small dick contest with John Wayne Bobbitt shortly after Lorena used her knife, you still lose.
You might be a douche if................
You smoke around kids. I don't get smoking. I never have. I never will. But, why do you have to smoke around kids? I don't get that. If you want to kill yourself, fine. Smoke all you want in a locked room with no ventilation. But don't smoke around kids. Idiots.
You might be a douche if................
You still think Elk Grove is getting an MLS team. The latest expansion fee is $100,000,000. Um, folks, Elk Grove doesn't have $100,000,000 for an expansion fee and then a stadium. Can we put this to rest now?
You might be a douche if..............
You drive in the fast lane of a 2 lane freeway at 65mph. Seriously, folks, drive in the right lane and use the left lane for passing. Slower cars stay to the right. Move over. What the hell is the problem with people? Who drives at 65 in the fast lane of I-5 when the posted speed limit is 70?
You might be a douche if.................
You are over 25 and you care about co-ed sports. Who cares if your team has won 21 of the last 22 games? Does that mean anything to anyone? Are you so proud of your team? Do you want a freaking medal? By the way, they give you a t-shirt for winning the league. Do you wear that t-shirt with pride? I bet you do. I am pretty sure I can beat you 1 v 1 only scoring with my left leg and not crossing half field. You are the reason people think adult sports are dumb and stop playing them. You need to get your glory through recruiting college athletes to play for you so your team wins because you suck the big one. Seriously, in a small dick contest with John Wayne Bobbitt shortly after Lorena used her knife, you still lose.
You might be a douche if................
You smoke around kids. I don't get smoking. I never have. I never will. But, why do you have to smoke around kids? I don't get that. If you want to kill yourself, fine. Smoke all you want in a locked room with no ventilation. But don't smoke around kids. Idiots.
You might be a douche if................
You still think Elk Grove is getting an MLS team. The latest expansion fee is $100,000,000. Um, folks, Elk Grove doesn't have $100,000,000 for an expansion fee and then a stadium. Can we put this to rest now?
Friday, April 26, 2013
An Ode to Alison
So this was going to be something different tonight, but then it changed..............that is the nature of my writing. There is no rhyme or reason. It turns out to be something different than I expect every time I write.
I was driving home from getting gas and this song came on the radio. You see, I have been listening a lot to SiriusXM's Love station. Don't ask why. I don't know why. But I have been.
Wait, I do know why. As I emerge from the dark place I was in, I come to light. What is light personified if not love? Right? We think of bad things as dark places and when we go to the light, we go to love. We go to what makes us happy.
So, this song came on, and it was talking about being bent, not broken. That was us. We were bent. We sure as heck weren't broken. I mean, how much does a couple have to put up with before you break? Where is that breaking point?
She met me when I was 14 and a complete loser. I admit it. I thought I was cool. Turns out, I wasn't cool. I didn't know what cool meant. I was shy, spoke funny, and wasn't the world's most outgoing guy.
She started dating me at 16. My nickname was Gobstopper. This girl went out with a dude whose nickname at the time was Gobstopper. Who would do that other than an angel? We did prom, then homecoming, then prom again. Somehow, during this time, she made me fall in love with her. She brought me out of my shell, made me less awkward, watched me grow. Heck, she didn't watch me grow, she was the sunlight, air and water - I was full of enough fertilizer.
She helped me make it through college. She was my motivation to succeed when I had to put a ring on her finger. After all, if she would put up with me when I was in high school, I knew I had a catch. She continued to be my motivation.
She has been my rock the last 4 years. I don't know how she does it. She makes me laugh when I want to cry. She makes me smile when I want to frown. She makes my heart skip a beat when she smiles at me.
So yes, we were bent. We sure weren't broken. She kept us strong, kept us together. And for that, I shall be forever grateful to my wife, the strongest woman I know, the most amazing person I have met, and my love.
I was driving home from getting gas and this song came on the radio. You see, I have been listening a lot to SiriusXM's Love station. Don't ask why. I don't know why. But I have been.
Wait, I do know why. As I emerge from the dark place I was in, I come to light. What is light personified if not love? Right? We think of bad things as dark places and when we go to the light, we go to love. We go to what makes us happy.
So, this song came on, and it was talking about being bent, not broken. That was us. We were bent. We sure as heck weren't broken. I mean, how much does a couple have to put up with before you break? Where is that breaking point?
She met me when I was 14 and a complete loser. I admit it. I thought I was cool. Turns out, I wasn't cool. I didn't know what cool meant. I was shy, spoke funny, and wasn't the world's most outgoing guy.
She started dating me at 16. My nickname was Gobstopper. This girl went out with a dude whose nickname at the time was Gobstopper. Who would do that other than an angel? We did prom, then homecoming, then prom again. Somehow, during this time, she made me fall in love with her. She brought me out of my shell, made me less awkward, watched me grow. Heck, she didn't watch me grow, she was the sunlight, air and water - I was full of enough fertilizer.
She helped me make it through college. She was my motivation to succeed when I had to put a ring on her finger. After all, if she would put up with me when I was in high school, I knew I had a catch. She continued to be my motivation.
She has been my rock the last 4 years. I don't know how she does it. She makes me laugh when I want to cry. She makes me smile when I want to frown. She makes my heart skip a beat when she smiles at me.
So yes, we were bent. We sure weren't broken. She kept us strong, kept us together. And for that, I shall be forever grateful to my wife, the strongest woman I know, the most amazing person I have met, and my love.
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
I am an expert too
I don't know about the rest of you, but everyone is an expert these days. Not just in what they do, but in everything. Everyone knows everything about everything, even things that are impossible to know anything about.
Think about it..........better yet, go on Facebook or Twitter or just google some dumb term like "expert." There are 626,000,000 hits on being an expert. Seriously? There aren't that many things to be an expert on.
Look, I get a lot of people are smart. Heck, a lot of people are smarter than me. But do I really have to listen to one more "social media expert" or one more "marketing expert" or one more "speech expert" tell me how to do something? Seriously.
How do you become a social media expert? I am all over that job. Wait, that sounds like too much work. You know what I want to be an expert in? Being an expert. Yes, there it is. Its like a grand slam in expertness. I am going to be an expert on how to be an expert.
From this day forth, I shall write about how to be an expert, post on Facebook all of my brilliant thoughts about being an expert, post pictures to Instagram or whatever it is called about experts, type 140 characters, and not a character more, about my expertise in experts. If you call me, I shall answer the phone "Good morning, expert experts. How may we expertly help you become an expert?" I shall videoconference, vlog (is that even a word, really?), hold pep rallies and generally go on and on about how I know more than you.
I have determined that none of you can possibly know as much about experts as I. I am the king of experts. If I were a country, I would be Expertstan. If I were a city, I would be Expertville. If I were a..........well, if I actually knew anything, I wouldn't be doing this.
You see, I am tired of people constantly telling me how to market, how to use social media, how to talk. (Yes, seriously.) I think I know how to market. I think I know how to use social media. I sure as heck know that I know how to speak. Could we all stop pretending that we are experts on everything and go back to being people?
Think about it..........better yet, go on Facebook or Twitter or just google some dumb term like "expert." There are 626,000,000 hits on being an expert. Seriously? There aren't that many things to be an expert on.
Look, I get a lot of people are smart. Heck, a lot of people are smarter than me. But do I really have to listen to one more "social media expert" or one more "marketing expert" or one more "speech expert" tell me how to do something? Seriously.
How do you become a social media expert? I am all over that job. Wait, that sounds like too much work. You know what I want to be an expert in? Being an expert. Yes, there it is. Its like a grand slam in expertness. I am going to be an expert on how to be an expert.
From this day forth, I shall write about how to be an expert, post on Facebook all of my brilliant thoughts about being an expert, post pictures to Instagram or whatever it is called about experts, type 140 characters, and not a character more, about my expertise in experts. If you call me, I shall answer the phone "Good morning, expert experts. How may we expertly help you become an expert?" I shall videoconference, vlog (is that even a word, really?), hold pep rallies and generally go on and on about how I know more than you.
I have determined that none of you can possibly know as much about experts as I. I am the king of experts. If I were a country, I would be Expertstan. If I were a city, I would be Expertville. If I were a..........well, if I actually knew anything, I wouldn't be doing this.
You see, I am tired of people constantly telling me how to market, how to use social media, how to talk. (Yes, seriously.) I think I know how to market. I think I know how to use social media. I sure as heck know that I know how to speak. Could we all stop pretending that we are experts on everything and go back to being people?
Monday, April 22, 2013
Thanks
I don't really know your name. Wait, I don't know your name at all. And, in fact, its not one person. Its a group of people, people who are anonymous to me, people who I have met, but whose names I did not learn. I admit it - I am bad with names. (I tell everyone who shows up at Sunday Soccer that I won't learn their name until they have been out 6 times.) Anyway, I want to say thank you.
December 2, 2008 I wrote my first post for this blog. I was not new to blogging. I was not new to getting things off my chest. This seemed like the perfect vehicle - I could blog and get things off my chest. What could be better?
Somewhere along the line, I slipped off track. (With apologies to Bruce Springsteen who wrote that line in "One Step up, Two Steps Back.") It went from a place where I could be pretty funny, a la Michael Phelps's fans against Kellogg to a dark place where I didn't rant, but cried. That is not funny. It wasn't funny then. It isn't funny now. A little history.............
I was 16 years old and I was a dork. Not the cool dork on Big Bang Theory. No, I was a bad student, who did just enough to get by in school, got into a few fights, and generally was the class clown. I enjoyed it. I met this girl. She was the prettiest girl in the school. She was smart. She was fun. And, for some reason that, 23 years later I cannot understand still, she wanted to go out with me. It was a surprise. It shocked me. But, who was I to say no to a date with a girl who was smart and pretty? I jumped on it!
We spent the next year and a half or so finishing high school, going on cheesy dates (yes, miniature golf and Dairy Queen was our first date), and slowly, at least for her, less so for me, we fell in love. I knew before I graduated high school that I loved this girl. And I told her so.
As for the rest of my life, I couldn't have told you what I was going to do, how, where, why or when. I did tell my dad and one of his friends, some big wig at Johnson & Johnson, that I would be a millionaire by 35. (Newsflash: I didn't make it.) But I didn't need to know what I wanted to do, or how or any of that stuff, because somehow it would work out. It always did for me. And how I could I not believe that would happen? I was dating the most amazing girl I had ever met. If that worked out, why wouldn't everything else work out? Besides, my dad always told me I didn't need to know what I wanted to do when I was in high school.
We went to college. I was actually told by my guidance counselor not to bother applying - I couldn't get in to college. I applied anyway. I guess I don't like being told that I can't do things. I was accepted. I hated it. So I went home after a year and attended a junior college. Then, together, we decided to come to Sacramento. Once again, somehow, things worked out for me.
I decided when we came to Sacramento that I shouldn't push my luck - I called my mom and told her when we came home for Thanksgiving I wanted to go to the jewelry store and buy an engagement ring. She was supportive and helped me pick one out.
You see, things worked out. They always did. I didn't worry about it. But, today, as I sit here, I know why they worked out - the glass was always half full. Life didn't get me down. It happened. I tried my best and things worked out. I didn't worry about what other people said or did.
Anyway, back to the story. I interviewed for jobs during my senior year of college and took a job as an insurance adjuster. I turned down a great paying job at BofA as a computer programmer so I could "adjust claims," whatever that meant. After my training, I heard about this CPCU thing. I didn't know what it was, but I was told not to worry about it - I wasn't smart enough to earn it. There were 10 essays you had to write, get a recommendation from someone with a CPCU and have 3 years of experience in the industry. Just months after my 3 year anniversary, I earned my CPCU, which is still the hardest exams I have taken in my life.
I continued to work my way up the ladder. Jobs seemed to just fall into my lap. Then law school started. Heck, as a full time employee with a wife, taking 3 classes at night was not rocket science. I managed to find a way to get through that first year.
Early in the second year, we had a hiccup. We survived, even if I had to yell at some folks and lay into them pretty hard. We had a child, then two. Life was good. I graduated, took the bar exam, had surgery the very next day, and started my new job while I waited for bar results. Again, I couldn't complain too much.
Now, looking back, it is here when the bitterness began to creep in. You see, I wasn't spending my Friday nights at the beach, dreaming of going to college, marrying my dream girl, talking to my dad about what plans I had for my future. My future was here - and my dad wasn't. After my graduation, but before bar results came out, my dad died. We immediately went down for the funeral and my aunt, she who no longer speaks to me, said "This is a blessing." She went on and on about how now my mom wouldn't suffer taking care of my dad, who had Parkinson's Disease. I was 29 years old.
Bar results came and I passed, but so did my mom's dad, my Papa. My dad was the toughest man I ever knew, but my Papa was a close 2nd. This guy fought in the Gold Gloves boxing tournament back in the day - way back. Somehow, though, we managed to keep going. Two kids, a nice house, a good job.
One fateful day, about a year later, I started this little adventure of running my own law firm. On that same day, unbeknownst to us, our youngest son was born. So, the day I decide to start running a law firm is the same day our 3rd son was born. My wife, the brave soul that she is, convinced me, maybe us?, that we could handle this. So, we said yes to the son (not yes to the dress!) and two months later he came home.
I knew nothing about running a law firm and even less about practicing law. But I was pretty sure I could run a business. And I could sell sand to the folks living in the Sahara. So how hard could it be? We made it work........
My oldest son was diagnosed on the Autism spectrum shortly after that. More darkness crept in. I don't know how women deal with these things, but I know how men deal with them - we don't. Nope. I couldn't deal with it. I didn't deal with it. I faked it well.
My sister died. I found out after the funeral.
My son got worse. And worse. And, still worse.
But in there, somewhere, my little girl, against all odds, was conceived. She came into this world on 09/09/09. It had to be a miracle, right? It had to be a sign. But more darkness crept in.
In 2010, my blog posts got darker. My world was darker. 2011 saw my mom die at 71. Two parents gone before I turned 40. I was uninvited to her funeral. No one talked to me. How on earth does this happen?
I can probably point to a more specific cause, but does it matter? Really, in the grand scheme of things, does it matter why it happened? It happened. This isn't an expose into why men are lame, why we can't cope, or why we fall into a depression.What matters is that it happened.
I know some of the posts were funny. Some were still good. Some were really good. A lot were dark. Maybe the darkness, the sadness, didn't come through. But I can go back and read them, and I see it.
Lately, that has changed. I see not darkness, but light. I look at my wife and don't see the woman who is making it through this crap with me. No, that's not her. I see the girl I married. I see this young, vibrant face. I see a light in her eyes. I see the fun we had, the fun we have, and the fun we will have. I see that beautiful girl who listened to my dumb ideas when we walked on the sand, listened to the waves crash, and whose face shone in the moonlight.
You see, I realized something recently: I can bitch, moan and complain and feel sorry for myself OR I can do something good in the world. This had been making its way into my head for sometime. I felt more positive. I felt better. I felt like I was helping people. Fine, maybe the 86 year old woman kissing me after I settled her case helped.
But there was more to it. I went to Florin High School last week. I spoke to these high school kids. I thought it was going to be lame. It wasn't. (You can read it here: http://randomrants08.blogspot.com/2013/04/florin-high-school-law-fair.html) I thought it was going to be me talking to no one who cared. It wasn't.
I realized over the last week that life is pretty good. It isn't perfect. It sure as heck isn't what I planned. I didn't plan on being 39 years old with 4 kids who range from 3 to 13. I didn't plan on a severely special needs teenager. But, I sure as heck didn't plan on being Mr. Negativity. I didn't plan on being the guy who was depressed, saw everything in a bad light, who was unhappy.
What does this mean for my blog? I will still rant. I think I can do it and be funny. I am sure of it. I will still mock things that need to be mocked. I will not, however, go back to that dark place. I will make sure it is lighthearted. I will go back, as close as possible, to being the guy who walked on the beach at 16 without a care in the world, seeing the good in everything. Life is simply too short for a guy whose parents died at 62 and 71. Life is too short for a guy who has 4 kids and a wife to protect.
So, there you have. Thank you to you and you and you. Thank you for helping me. Thank you for letting me see me again. Thank you for reminding me that life is too short for me to deal with nonsense, to deal with darkness.
Thank you.
December 2, 2008 I wrote my first post for this blog. I was not new to blogging. I was not new to getting things off my chest. This seemed like the perfect vehicle - I could blog and get things off my chest. What could be better?
Somewhere along the line, I slipped off track. (With apologies to Bruce Springsteen who wrote that line in "One Step up, Two Steps Back.") It went from a place where I could be pretty funny, a la Michael Phelps's fans against Kellogg to a dark place where I didn't rant, but cried. That is not funny. It wasn't funny then. It isn't funny now. A little history.............
I was 16 years old and I was a dork. Not the cool dork on Big Bang Theory. No, I was a bad student, who did just enough to get by in school, got into a few fights, and generally was the class clown. I enjoyed it. I met this girl. She was the prettiest girl in the school. She was smart. She was fun. And, for some reason that, 23 years later I cannot understand still, she wanted to go out with me. It was a surprise. It shocked me. But, who was I to say no to a date with a girl who was smart and pretty? I jumped on it!
We spent the next year and a half or so finishing high school, going on cheesy dates (yes, miniature golf and Dairy Queen was our first date), and slowly, at least for her, less so for me, we fell in love. I knew before I graduated high school that I loved this girl. And I told her so.
As for the rest of my life, I couldn't have told you what I was going to do, how, where, why or when. I did tell my dad and one of his friends, some big wig at Johnson & Johnson, that I would be a millionaire by 35. (Newsflash: I didn't make it.) But I didn't need to know what I wanted to do, or how or any of that stuff, because somehow it would work out. It always did for me. And how I could I not believe that would happen? I was dating the most amazing girl I had ever met. If that worked out, why wouldn't everything else work out? Besides, my dad always told me I didn't need to know what I wanted to do when I was in high school.
We went to college. I was actually told by my guidance counselor not to bother applying - I couldn't get in to college. I applied anyway. I guess I don't like being told that I can't do things. I was accepted. I hated it. So I went home after a year and attended a junior college. Then, together, we decided to come to Sacramento. Once again, somehow, things worked out for me.
I decided when we came to Sacramento that I shouldn't push my luck - I called my mom and told her when we came home for Thanksgiving I wanted to go to the jewelry store and buy an engagement ring. She was supportive and helped me pick one out.
You see, things worked out. They always did. I didn't worry about it. But, today, as I sit here, I know why they worked out - the glass was always half full. Life didn't get me down. It happened. I tried my best and things worked out. I didn't worry about what other people said or did.
Anyway, back to the story. I interviewed for jobs during my senior year of college and took a job as an insurance adjuster. I turned down a great paying job at BofA as a computer programmer so I could "adjust claims," whatever that meant. After my training, I heard about this CPCU thing. I didn't know what it was, but I was told not to worry about it - I wasn't smart enough to earn it. There were 10 essays you had to write, get a recommendation from someone with a CPCU and have 3 years of experience in the industry. Just months after my 3 year anniversary, I earned my CPCU, which is still the hardest exams I have taken in my life.
I continued to work my way up the ladder. Jobs seemed to just fall into my lap. Then law school started. Heck, as a full time employee with a wife, taking 3 classes at night was not rocket science. I managed to find a way to get through that first year.
Early in the second year, we had a hiccup. We survived, even if I had to yell at some folks and lay into them pretty hard. We had a child, then two. Life was good. I graduated, took the bar exam, had surgery the very next day, and started my new job while I waited for bar results. Again, I couldn't complain too much.
Now, looking back, it is here when the bitterness began to creep in. You see, I wasn't spending my Friday nights at the beach, dreaming of going to college, marrying my dream girl, talking to my dad about what plans I had for my future. My future was here - and my dad wasn't. After my graduation, but before bar results came out, my dad died. We immediately went down for the funeral and my aunt, she who no longer speaks to me, said "This is a blessing." She went on and on about how now my mom wouldn't suffer taking care of my dad, who had Parkinson's Disease. I was 29 years old.
Bar results came and I passed, but so did my mom's dad, my Papa. My dad was the toughest man I ever knew, but my Papa was a close 2nd. This guy fought in the Gold Gloves boxing tournament back in the day - way back. Somehow, though, we managed to keep going. Two kids, a nice house, a good job.
One fateful day, about a year later, I started this little adventure of running my own law firm. On that same day, unbeknownst to us, our youngest son was born. So, the day I decide to start running a law firm is the same day our 3rd son was born. My wife, the brave soul that she is, convinced me, maybe us?, that we could handle this. So, we said yes to the son (not yes to the dress!) and two months later he came home.
I knew nothing about running a law firm and even less about practicing law. But I was pretty sure I could run a business. And I could sell sand to the folks living in the Sahara. So how hard could it be? We made it work........
My oldest son was diagnosed on the Autism spectrum shortly after that. More darkness crept in. I don't know how women deal with these things, but I know how men deal with them - we don't. Nope. I couldn't deal with it. I didn't deal with it. I faked it well.
My sister died. I found out after the funeral.
My son got worse. And worse. And, still worse.
But in there, somewhere, my little girl, against all odds, was conceived. She came into this world on 09/09/09. It had to be a miracle, right? It had to be a sign. But more darkness crept in.
In 2010, my blog posts got darker. My world was darker. 2011 saw my mom die at 71. Two parents gone before I turned 40. I was uninvited to her funeral. No one talked to me. How on earth does this happen?
I can probably point to a more specific cause, but does it matter? Really, in the grand scheme of things, does it matter why it happened? It happened. This isn't an expose into why men are lame, why we can't cope, or why we fall into a depression.What matters is that it happened.
I know some of the posts were funny. Some were still good. Some were really good. A lot were dark. Maybe the darkness, the sadness, didn't come through. But I can go back and read them, and I see it.
Lately, that has changed. I see not darkness, but light. I look at my wife and don't see the woman who is making it through this crap with me. No, that's not her. I see the girl I married. I see this young, vibrant face. I see a light in her eyes. I see the fun we had, the fun we have, and the fun we will have. I see that beautiful girl who listened to my dumb ideas when we walked on the sand, listened to the waves crash, and whose face shone in the moonlight.
You see, I realized something recently: I can bitch, moan and complain and feel sorry for myself OR I can do something good in the world. This had been making its way into my head for sometime. I felt more positive. I felt better. I felt like I was helping people. Fine, maybe the 86 year old woman kissing me after I settled her case helped.
But there was more to it. I went to Florin High School last week. I spoke to these high school kids. I thought it was going to be lame. It wasn't. (You can read it here: http://randomrants08.blogspot.com/2013/04/florin-high-school-law-fair.html) I thought it was going to be me talking to no one who cared. It wasn't.
I realized over the last week that life is pretty good. It isn't perfect. It sure as heck isn't what I planned. I didn't plan on being 39 years old with 4 kids who range from 3 to 13. I didn't plan on a severely special needs teenager. But, I sure as heck didn't plan on being Mr. Negativity. I didn't plan on being the guy who was depressed, saw everything in a bad light, who was unhappy.
What does this mean for my blog? I will still rant. I think I can do it and be funny. I am sure of it. I will still mock things that need to be mocked. I will not, however, go back to that dark place. I will make sure it is lighthearted. I will go back, as close as possible, to being the guy who walked on the beach at 16 without a care in the world, seeing the good in everything. Life is simply too short for a guy whose parents died at 62 and 71. Life is too short for a guy who has 4 kids and a wife to protect.
So, there you have. Thank you to you and you and you. Thank you for helping me. Thank you for letting me see me again. Thank you for reminding me that life is too short for me to deal with nonsense, to deal with darkness.
Thank you.
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