Things I loathe

Any solo Beyonce song

Do it yourself home improvement

Cats

Shoes over $30

Discussions on the war in Iraq

Egg salad sandwiches

The thought of ever having to go back to high school

Slow drivers in the left lane

Heavy metal bands

Drag shows

Putting Ella down for a nap and watching her start to cry

Staying up late

Dishonesty

Paris Hilton

Ticketmaster surcharges

Animals dressed up in clothes

Football

Long drawn-out guitar solos

Paying full price

Dancing

Girls in baseball caps

Ryan Seacrest

Pâté

Raking leaves

Any MTV dating show

Petty arguments

Owen Wilson movies

Apathy

Sore throats

Evanescence

Broken copy machines on Monday mornings

Tomato soup

Junior high students

Credit card debt

Feeling pressured to do something you don't want to do

People who talk on cell phones in restaurants

Hillary Clinton

Deal Or No Deal

Diarrhea

Concession stand prices

Peanut butter and jelly

White trash

Lack of confidence

Makeover shows

Fake people

Car shopping

Misspelled words on advertisements

Tiny gum wrappers

Cold sandwiches

Nascar

Chicago parking deck prices

Jay Leno

Fruit

Stephen King novels

Ice cream sandwiches

Cameron Diaz

Things I love

Cotton candy

30 Rock

Haribo gummy bears

Date night

Anything credited to Lennon/McCartney

Opening weekend at the movie theater

Award shows

Singing in the car

Reality TV

Live music

Starbucks

Airports

Rachel's constant belief in me

Long showers

Hot wings

Comebacks

Bowling

French toast with A-1 sauce

Roller coasters

Croissants

Sarcasm

My family and their eccentricities

The World Champion St. Louis Cardinals

Crepes

John Mayer lyrics

Fancy hotels

Taking a nap on the beach

London

Jack Bauer

Ella reaching out to be held

Long weekends

Documentaries

Old school Elton John

Steamed clams

The Office

Friends who know you so well and yet still remain your friends

Oprah's book club

Payday

David Letterman

Chocolate chip cookies fresh from the oven

Falling asleep on the couch with Rachel until midnight

Entertainment Weekly

Fountain sodas

Watching the garbage man crush all of our trash each Wednesday

The first day of school

The last day of school

My morning quiet time

Nachos supreme

Julia Roberts movies

Lazy, rainy days

A good steak

Barack Obama

Electric blankets

Crispy bacon

Warm summer nights in the car with the windows down and Bon Jovi in the CD player

29 and counting

Everyone feels the need to keep reminding me that each day I'm inching closer and closer to 30. I don't know if I'm supposed to be bothered by this or not. So far it's no big deal. I mean I'm married, almost a father of two, and have purchased a van now. Ya I get it. My days of sitting at the Lucky Lady making fun of Chi O's are officially over. I can barely make it through the first fifteen minutes of Grey's Anatomy these days before falling asleep. 3:00 a.m. runs to Perkins seem a distant memory.

So imagine my surprise last night as we were checking out at Target. The teenage girl was scanning our items when she stopped midway to ask for my I.D. I looked at her curiously to which she responded "I need to make sure you're old enough to purchase this children's cough syrup" which she held in one hand. I asked her how old one had to be as I handed over my license to which she responded 18. I may be almost three decades old but to this girl I didn't even look old enough to buy a pack of smokes. You've gotta love the youth of America.

It's the thought that counts?

I complained last week about several of the Christmas gifts given to me by my students. Well yesterday I saw a gift that might be right on par with those. Thankfully the gift wasn't for me this time. Instead my grandparents were forced to come up with some fake gratitude. My uncle's girlfriend handed them a gift bag and they pulled out a box of microwave popcorn. She said to keep looking and they dug through the tissue paper. After a few seconds of searching they came across a baggie full of Sweet and Low packets. The kicker was that she works at Bob Evans and swiped them from the storage room in the back. I guess I can't fault her because it really is a money-saving idea. Next year all of my loved ones are getting Post-It notes and number two pencils that I stole from the school office.

Unnecessary

Our cell phone contract is up so today I called Verizon to check about switching over. We got a really good deal but then the guy tried to sell me on all of the extra services, like a text message plan, roadside assistance, insurance, and a car charger. The one he was pushing the hardest was the mobile Internet capability. I told him it wasn't something we'd really use. Not taking no for an answer, he continued, "Well what if you need to look up movie times? What if you need to order concert tickets? Suppose you need to update your blog." I really started believing that Pablo on the other end was actually an acquaintance of mine. Before I could really start figuring out how I knew this guy, he went down the absurd route.

"What if your car broke down in the desert and you needed to look up the closest mechanic?"
"What if you got lost on the way to the opera and needed to find directions?"
"What if you were making Christmas dinner and needed to look up a recipe?"

Are these common problems that people have while driving around in their vehicles? I guess it might come in handy if I ever drove off the side of a bridge and needed to look up the best way to escape from my rapidly sinking car. Other than that I have no use for it. To which Pablo next tried to sell me an Orange County Choppers cell phone case. Now that my friend I couldn't pass up.

Punk'd

For the past four years I have picked out one of my students to do something special for at Christmas. This is someone whose families can't afford much or are not living with their parents for some reason or another. I go out and buy them a few presents and get several other families on board as well. This year I had two boys that I really wanted to do something for. The first lives with his grandmother and has never even met his father. A couple of months ago the grandmother said that they would have to move because their landlord had increased their rent. The other boy lives with his father and the mother has been out of the picture since shortly after he was born. He comes to school each day with the same pair of pants, shoes with holes in the toes and the soles, and one of two short-sleeved t-shirts which he alternates every other day. I thought they both deserved a nice Christmas like I had every year growing up. With the help of the other families we were able to collect around twenty gifts for each boy which I thought was amazing.

I delivered the gifts to the first boy's house while he was away and the grandmother instantly started crying. She was so thankful for what we did and pointed to her Christmas tree. Underneath it were only four presents, two for each of her two grandsons. That kind of made my Christmas right there.

I drove over to the next boy's apartment, knocked on the door, and waited for dad to answer. He opened up the door and invited me in. Before I could even explain while I was there, I stepped into the living room and immediately noticed the 51" big screen television stationed in the corner. Um okay. I explained what I was doing there and he responded "Oh great. We can put them under the tree with the rest of the gifts. I've spent almost $350 on him already." It took everything in me to not make up a story about how I had accidentally driven to the wrong student's house. Muttering under my breath I made three trips to the car to retrieve all of the gifts. If you can spend over $300 on Christmas presents for your son surely you can invest in some new shoes or perhaps a coat that has all but one of the buttons still attached. I'll admit that all of the Christmas spirit I had from the last house had completely disappeared. So this is what it feels like to get punk'd.

The season for giving crappy gifts

Today was our Christmas party at school. It's a kind of a double-edged sword. On one hand it's exciting because it means that Christmas vacation is only a day away. On the other hand you have to prepare yourself for the onslaught of terrible gifts. Now there are those rare families that you can count on to come through for you. For example, three of my students each got me Starbucks gift cards that totaled up to $65. That should last me through the end of the year. However, most of the gifts suck. They're usually so bad that you can't even use that "It's the thought that counts" line. Note to parents and future parents reading this: Avoid giving the following gifts that I received today. They'll never make good presents and quite frankly there's only so many fake compliments one can come up with when put on the spot.

* Mini ornaments
* A Christmas stocking with the teacher's last name spelled wrong
* A small loaf of something smeared with cream cheese
* Generic coffee
* A travel mug that plugs into a car lighter
* A dusty box of chocolate truffles
* A gingerbread ornament missing one eye
* Coasters that you can slide photos into
* A tiny pillow that says "Joy" on it
* A Santa that has candy coming out of where its butt should be
* A small weiner of summer sausage

Living the American dream

In my class this year I have a boy who arrived here from Thailand about two years ago. Today I was asking him how he came to live here in the U.S. He explained that his dad (i.e. his mom's husband who is not actually his dad) was on vacation in Bangkok with his wife. He met this boy's mom and invited her to join him in the states. Left out somewhere in this story is that the man left his wife and children for the Thai honey. So when they arrived on U.S. soil neither the boy nor his mother could speak any English. Even now listening to mom is as difficult as discerning Bob Dylan lyrics. He continued to tell me that his mom now works at Taco Bell while taking ESL classes at night. Now there's the American dream. How many young Thai women must dream of breaking up a marriage, being taken away from their homeland, and forced to to slather refried beans on tortilla shells. Welcome to America!

Too much to bear

The other day when my grandparents babysat Ella they gave her a new bear. They thought it looked like her. Maybe if she had claws and devoured gallons of honey. Now mind you this isn't some cuddly teddy bear. Instead it's an ugly, hard, ceramic statue that stands about six inches tall. It's not really the greatest toy to give a 17 month old. In fact, it's not even a toy. I would find it kind of sweet if it were a family heirloom passed down from generation to generation. However, it's a $1 piece of crap picked up from ___________ (insert your choice of Dollar General/Big Lots/Family Dollar). Normally I'd smile, give a fake "Oh that's cute", thank them for the gift, and toss it in the Goodwill box once they're out the door. However, Ella's fallen in love with it. I mean she carries the thing around the house now wherever she goes. Tonight we were putting on our coats, getting ready to go see Rachel at work. As I opened the front door she made a whining sound and outstretched her hand. I followed her fingers to see that stupid bear sitting right in the middle of the living room floor. I went to pick it up and she smiled wide as she was reunited with her new favorite toy. Now I keep trying to distract her with Oreos, books, Elmo, tightrope walkers, a life-size igloo, and a visit from David Hasselhoff but to no avail.

The end of Vaughniston

So Jennifer Aniston and Vince Vaughn have finally broken up. And a disinterested nation yawns. Did anyone really expect these two to become this generation's Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward? They were a bizarre match right from the beginning. She is supposedly yet another one of America's sweethearts (along with Julia and Reese), but I don't find her to be that charming. He's the frat boy that will still be smashing beer cans on his head when he's eighty. Supposedly Vince flew to Hungary over Thanksgiving weekend. And we all thought Gwyneth Paltrow was un-American. While there he met this 20-year old junior from Trinity University in San Antonio. Before even the sheets had cooled down she sent out an email to all 22 of her sorority sisters with the sophisticated subject line "I shacked up with Vince Vaughn." Oh how I miss those classy college girls. She closed the email by stating "We didn't have sex but it was just as good." Well at least it had a happy ending. Obviously what happens in Budapest doesn't always stay in Budapest.

The "Back on the road to pay for my divorce" tour

Last night Rachel and I, along with Traci and Seth, went to see Sara Evans at the Civic Center Theater. It was one of her first shows since getting divorced and leaving Dancing with the Stars. It was my first time seeing her in concert and I was really impressed. She's one of those few artists that actually sounds just as good live as she does on her albums. Her cousin who lives in the area was sitting in the row ahead of us. Let's just say it's apparent which side of the family got the good looks. (Hint: it's not the chick who lives in North Pekin.) At one point in the show she talked about having everyone over to her house for Thanksgiving this year. She recounted how one night she fell asleep next to her grandmother just like she did as a child. This was followed up by an innebriated woman that cried out with a classy "Incest!" comment. I must have missed the part of the story when she said they made out. At another point in the concert she asked all the women who were there with a sexy man to stand up. I looked over expecting Rach to bolt from her seat. Her and Traci just sat there. You would have thought that it was as difficult a task as Britney Spears locating her panties. Seventeen minutes later they finally stood up. Oh and the night wouldn't be complete without telling you that Traci tripped over a large mountain of snow as we were leaving and found herself facedown on Jefferson Avenue. Classic.

Set List
Perfect
I Keep Looking
Suds in the Bucket
Born To Fly
You'll Always Be My Baby
Bible Story
Cheatin'
Let It Snow
Coalmine
New Hometown
I Could Not Ask For More
Real Fine Place To Start

Encore
On The Radio
(Sittin' On) The Dock Of The Bay
Heaven Is A Place On Earth

Politically incorrect

Today we went on a field trip to Dickson Mounds, which is a Native American museum located in the middle of nowhere. It's so boring there that even the Indians would be begging for the white men to kill them and put them out of their misery. When we first arrived one of the boys pointed and said "Wow, look at those things!" As I turned to see what he was referring to I came face to face with a lifesize replica of an Indian woman without any stitch of clothing over her chest. What a nice boob shot ten seconds into the visit. We headed upstairs to hear about Native American artifacts. As the students were entering I told them to sit with their legs folded Indian style, which instantly I realized was the wrong choice of words. The woman giving the talk said "That is so disrespectful to our culture. We say criss-cross applesauce." However, I find that to be disrespectful to those brave apples who gave their lives to become a part of school lunches each day. Who's politically incorrect now? We later looked at the exhibits. (There's only so many arrowheads you can look at before you want to start jabbing them in your own eyeballs). We were told that when we finished with the exhibits to head into the large theater for another presentation. I opened the doors and led the students in only to be stopped ten seconds later by an irrate employee. "Who told you to come in here? This theater is closed for the time being," she griped. I explained that we were told to enter and she put her finger over her mouth as though to tell me to be quiet. As Kelly Ripa would say, that's a no-no. Don't treat me like a runny-nosed four-year old. Before I could be childish right back she added, "I don't really want to talk to you. I need the teacher." Perfect. I smiled right back and said, "Well that would be me. Michael Ritchason, nice to meet you" as I extended my hand. Refusing to take it she said a curt "Well you need to stay out of here" before hopping back on her broomstick and flying away.

Searching for nipples at Menards

A few days ago our water heater went out and has been leaking all over the basement floor ever since. Last night our trusty friend Rob dropped by to replace it for us. Now I will tell you up front I know nothing about fixing things around the house. I can teach your children how to read or how to memorize their multiplication tables, but don't ask me to fix a gas leak. Like everything else in our house the previous owners seemed to make improvements as cheaply as they could. As Rob was installing the water heater he noticed that one of the pipes that was used was illegal. He asked me to run to Menards which is completely out of my element. I wrote down specifically what he requested, repeated it numerous times to make sure I actually had it, and headed out before they closed for Thanksgiving Eve.

When I arrived at the store I tracked down a worker, only to discover he looked and acted like Clay Aiken's younger, even gayer brother. A gay guy working at Menards is like a straight man working at the Gap. I just isn't natural. I told him what I needed and he looked at me like it was the craziest order ever. He finally led me to a section of black gas pipes. I told him what specific measurements I needed and he replied that he had never heard of such a thing. I added that it had something to do with a nipple to which I think I noticed a twinkle in his eye. He responded by saying, "Oooh I know where the nipples are" and followed him with trepidation, unsure of where he would lead me. Needless to say he led me to another section of smaller pipes which were in fact what I needed. With black nipples in hand I headed home to finish the job (i.e. stand back and watch while Rob worked away).

From the line

There's a boy in my class who doesn't really have much to his name, including a dad. So when he asked me today to attend his first basketball game tonight I knew it would make his day. I drove over and witnessed a defensive showdown of nine-years old hopped up on Powerade. It was an action-filled game right down to the final buzzer when the score read 16-10. The best part was when this high school-aged kid came out after the first quarter. He stood at the foul line and shot free throws. And I thought halftime at the Bradley games were bad with the dogs catching frisbees. Anyway, the kid missed all eleven shots, five of which were airballs and three of which failed to even come within two feet of the rim. This kid was living one of my fears, standing in front of a gym full of people watching you suck at a sport. That's why I don't even attempt it and instead spend my nights watching yet another crappy Real World/Road Rules challenge.

America's most wanted

This afternoon my principal came in and asked me to stop in her office when I had a chance. Instantly I began wondering which parent had called, complaining that I had called their child a spook. Sometimes it just slips out. Later when I stopped by to see her she asked me to shut the door which is never a comforting sign. She took out a manila folder and said "I'd like you to take a look at this." I knew someone would stumble upon my nude Internet pictures one day. I was relieved to discover that it actually had nothing to do with me personally. All of the volunteers in our classroom are required to be fingerprinted to make sure they're not dealing in illicit activity. Well sure enough out of the whole school the only one that was flagged was a parent in my room that helps out several times a week. According to the poilce report attached, she and her husband had gotten into an argument back in 2001 and she had beaten the crap out of him. This is the same parent who bought me $75 worth of stuff at the World Series. Needless to say, I don't want to let this one get away. There could be a nice Christmas present on the way. She's coming in to help at 2:15 today. I need to be on my best behavior and try not to piss her off. She could kick my anorexic butt any day.

A D-list birthday

So last night for my birthday Rachel and I headed to Bloomington to see Kathy Griffin, who Rach absolutely loathes. I like her show on Bravo and have seen her various specials. However, I must admit that I didn't enjoy her live stand-up. First of all I knew I was in for it when in the first minute she screamed "Well we've taken back the House and the Senate." As the audience howled in approval I knew that my conservative, right wing-leaning butt was in the minority. How about that Aaron Schock victory? Anyone? She went through her whole barrage of celebrity stories, poking fun at Whitney Houston ("If even Courtney Love is saying you're messed up, then it's time to put down the crack pipe."), Paris Hilton ("She is without a doubt mildly retarded."), and Madonna ("When did she become more British than the royal family?"). Rachel was miffed because she had just commented on Madonna's accent two weeks ago and now thinks she deserves compensation for stealing her joke. The show seemed kind of stale to me and there is only so much you can hear about her feud with Ryan Seacrest. After you have heard her talk about sticking various items in her vagina 28 times it kind of loses its luster. The love affair with Kathy Griffin and her plastic face has now come to an end.

Hump day

Each morning my students do this word sort activity where they have to spell words and look at the similarities between them (incredibly exciting). Today one of the words was "hump" like the thing that is on the back of a camel. A boy raised his hand and said "My dad likes to hump," following by my mouth hitting the floor. He went on to explain that when he's riding with his dad in the car he always tries to go over all the humps in the road to make the car ride more like a roller coaster. Alright, now I've got it. Now I've seen both of this kid's parents and the last thing I want to do is picture them getting it on.

Stuck up

So yesterday I told you about the boy who brought me in some fish and how sweet it was. Well today it was time to see the other side of him. During our science lesson I heard him keep making a sound like he was blowing his nose. As I looked closer I realized that he had his finger up his nose and he didn't even have a tissue which about made me puke. When I told him to go get a kleenex he said seven words that I hope I never hear again: "My eraser is stuck up my nose." Sure enough he had a bright orange eraser wedged in his left nostril. I grabbed a couple tissues and tried to use my finger and thumb to grab it but they were too big. I finally got it out by using both of my pinkies as a kind of tweezers. (It wasn't a good look because using your pinkies for anything makes you look really gay.) After a few minutes the booger-coated eraser was safely removed and disposed in the garbage. Suddenly the fish-giving doesn't seem so weird.

Something a little fishy

Remember the old days when a student would bring a shiny apple to school for the teacher and she would display it proudly at the edge of her desk? Ya well I think those days are gone. Today one of my students brought me in an unexpected gift. Now he is one of those kids that I refer to as a 50/50 student because half of the time you really love him while the other half of the time he will drive you crazy. Yesterday I asked him how his weekend was and he told me that he went finishing with his dad and caught nine trout. I tend not to believe a whole lot of what he says after he told me that he went to batting practice with Albert Pujols and visited the Great Wall of China (on separate days of course). So today he walks in to our class with a large baggie of fish and says "Here's some trout for you, Mr. Ritchason." I peer inside and notice that there are four huge fish minus their heads. This will go down as the most unusual although unexplainably charming gift that I've ever gotten from a student.

Battleground

Another week, another star student to take out to lunch. Today it was Austin who chose Arby's. Everything was going just fine as we were eating until he told me that his stepmom had a baby in May. He followed this up by saying that his mom and his stepmom used to be best friends until his dad decided to move in with the best friend who is now the stepmom. Where do these people live? Wisteria Lane? Is there a guy chained up in the basement too? As Austin finished up his chicken strips he tipped the box up and began licking the inside of it to get the last few crumbs. Now if an 8-year old Ella is ever smashing her face into the bottom of a hot fudge sundae cup, writhing her tongue around for the last few drops of chocolate please feel free to swat her head away.

We headed to the parking lot to get into the car when Austin opened his door so wide that it banged into the car next to us. I looked and saw that there was someone sitting in the pimped-out Fast and the Furious car. Immediately the juvenile delinquent/black thug in a white man's body/wannabe Vin Diesel jumped out of his car decked out in Diddy's Sean John clothing line and raced over. "Whatchu doin' son?" he said to Austin, who gets literacy support and can't understand a simple sentence in a book let alone this high school drop-out jive. Thoroughly perplexed, he just stood there and said "Sorry." I examined both vehicles, neither of which had a single scratch. I too apologized and he just stared at me like he was unsure of what to do next. I was waiting for Slim Shady to challenge me to a freestyle battle right there in the Arby's parking lot. Finally, I said "Well we have to be getting back to school" to which he responded by reaching out his hand to me and doing one of this ridiculous handshakes with the fists and the thumbs. I never understand when people (especially white people) do that. Basically it's like a retarded version of a thumb war. We said our requisite "peace out" goodbyes and started to "roll out." Maybe I need to start rethinking this whole star student thing.

One of each

Rachel and I went to the doctor yesterday afternoon to find out the sex of the baby. Almost immediately the doctor could tell it was a boy (good genes). We're very excited but still a little surprised. We both had been leaning more to it being another girl. So of course Rach has already been out shopping to begin filling his closet. Which leads me to my office which will now disappear faster than Bo Bice's career. In the coming weeks my computer, bookshelf, and CD's will make way for a crib, changing table, and rocking chair. We haven't fully decided on a name yet, although Ethan has suggested Striker, which we would be foolish not to consider.

Step-by-step directions from a dirty old man

I will preface this post by saying that Rachel was mortified that I would even write this for fear that it was crude. So to my goody two shoes friends (you know who you are) you might want to stop reading now. So last night at church Aubrey and Sarah were way too excited to have me help out at a station where the kids would be making their own bouncy balls. Now it's actually a cool little activity where you pour different colored powder into molds, add a bit of water, and let it dry for a while. And sure enough it actually worked and the kids loved them. However, I'm certain the directions were written by a pervert. For instance, after letting the ball dry for three minutes in the mold it says to "Open the mold. Your balls will be sticky, so let the balls sits on waxed paper for about two more minutes to dry." I mean, c'mon already. Then the final step says "It is best to store your balls in a small plastic bag when not in use to keep them soft and bouncy." To which my prim and proper, English-bred wife (who if you remember thought I was being crude) replied "Kind of like a ball sack" before she dissolved into giggles, proud of her own little pun. Maybe next week the kids will enjoy the Oscar Mayer weiner maker.

On to New York

So on Sunday my friend Seth and I headed down to St. Louis for game 4 of the National League Division Series to watch the Cardinals beat the Padres and move on to the NLCS against the Mets. The coolest part of the whole experience, however, were our seats. We were just a handful of rows behind the Cardinals dugout, which has now spoiled me for life. Even Ben Affleck doesn't get seats this good at Fenway. Now granted we got stuck listening to the play-by-play of these die-hards that were under the impression that they had a direct line to LaRussa himself. By the third inning they were even finalizing the pitching rotation for the upcoming series (For those keeping score at home they'd go with Weaver, Wainwright, Suppan, and Carpenter). The guy sitting next to me wasn't much better. For starters he resembled that guy from the DMB "Everyday" video that just goes around hugging everyone. The best part was that he smelled like a mix of Bud Light and body odor. Plus as an added bonus former Idol contestant Nikko Smith was there to sing the national anthem. It was an amazing experience that I won't soon forget. So here's hoping that Weaver and his 8-14 record can overcome the Mets in game 1 tomorrow night. I'm sure my buddies from the row behind me already have their scorecards ready.

The future Mrs. Ella Ritchason-Carter

Tonight I was flipping through the channels after the Cardinals' game one win and came across E!'s new House of Carters. I had caught a bit of it last night before dozing off. (I mean what am I going to watch instead? That disappointingly dull Studio 60 show? I've tried it for two weeks now and I'm done. At least Seth likes it.) Basically this reality show is a peek inside the dysfunctional relationship between the singing Carter clan: Nick (semi-famous still I guess), Aaron (barely famous and most likely to show up next season on Dancing with the Stars), Angel, Leslie, and Bobbie Jean (no idea). First of all this show is a train wreck (but of course I won't miss an episode). Basically everyone argues through the entire thing. One of the girls (does it even matter which one?) is drinking in 96% of the episode and almost catches her hair on fire while lighting a cigarette on the stove. Nick and Aaron start brawling over a loud stereo. There's even a Paris Hilton shout-out. What more could you ask for?

The truly unnerving thing about this is that Ella was fascinated with the TV while it was on. After a couple of minutes I switched the channel and she started whining. So just for fun I turned it back and a huge smile crept across her face as she hustled right up to the screen. Then she did something that almost pains me to report. She extended her neck and put her mouth right on the image of Nick Carter as though she was kissing him. First of all, the last time I checked this wasn't 1999. I haven't heard "I Want It That Way" in years (not that I'm complaing). And let's just say that it doesn't look like the Paris Hilton break-up has set that well with him. In fact it looks like the guy just ate an entire SUV. You know it's gone downhill when girls now say that Howie is the cutest Backstreet Boy.

Hired help

This morning Ella and I popped into Starbucks for a quick drink. I placed my order which came to $5.80. I gave the cashier a $10 bill and she gave me back a nickel in change. When I asked her about it she didn't seem to get it and simply said "Well that's what I was supposed to be." I wanted to tell her that even the boy in my class that alternates all day between eating his boogers and his scabs could figure out the correct change. I finally got my change and my coffee and sat down. As Ella was eating her $2.00 cookie a different worker came up to talk to Ella. She asked how old she was and I replied fifteen months. Then the woman said "Oh she's almost one then." The last time I checked there were twelve months in a year. And if it couldn't get worse she kept saying about how much it looked like Ella was enjoying her croissant. Chocolate chip cookies and croissants look nothing alike. I thought to myself that the lady seemed relatively well-adjusted for being on crack. I couldn't take much more of it so I wiped off Ella's mouth and wrapped up the rest of her "croissant" for later.

Quenching the thirst

Each week my class has a different "star student." During that week they get to hang up their photographs on the bulletin board, be first in line for everything, and bring in show and tell items. But I guess the biggest perk is that I take them out for lunch one day at the spot of their choosing. Today this week's student chose McDonald's so we headed for the golden arches. After placing our order I asked him if he wanted any ketchup to go with his fries. He asked for five cups of ketchup which I thought was a bit much but oh well. We sat down and he started eating the fries. Later when he only had a few left I noticed the ketchup sitting on the table untouched. When I asked him about it he said "Oh ya I almost forgot" while reaching for his straw. After taking it out of his soft drink he placed it in one of the ketchup containers and began drinking the ketchup. It took everything in me to not vomit up my Chicken Selects. He proceeded to finish drinking all five cups and had the nerve to ask for even more. When I declined we went outside and headed back to school. Needless to say his breath smelled rank the rest of the day.

Guess what your grandchildren told me

This Sunday is Grandparents Day so my class is putting on a program for all of their grandparents tomorrow afternoon. We've made crafts, written letters, practiced skits, and worked on poetry. Here are just a few of the things I have been told by my students in the last few days:

* "I don't see my grandpa anymore because he decided he was gay and now he lives in Florida."

* When I asked a girl if her grandma was coming she replied, "Well I know that she would really want to but she died this summer."

* "My grandpa and grandma took us to see Cars and my grandpa fell asleep. Grandma said to let him sleep but in the middle of the movie he farted two times so we woke him up."

* While using each of the letters in "wonderful" to come up with a phrase to describe a grandparent I noticed that one boy had some unlikely words for the letter O. "Well my mom calls my grandpa an old fart all the time."

Hit me with your best shot

So my final concert of the summer came last night when I went to Bloomington with my dad to see Pat Benatar. I skipped the VMAs which is kind of ironic because she was the first female artist ever to have a video on MTV (useless trivia that I can't seem to get rid of). Granted Benatar is one of those artists that haven't made a substantial contribution to the music industry in years and is basically getting by on the old hits (Elton John, Billy Joel, and the like). Yet there is no denying her talent. When you hear that raspy voice you know who it is. She put on an amazing show with all of her best loved songs. My only quibble would be with the length of the show. After less than a dozen songs she headed backstage before coming back for her encore. But for $35 I guess you can't expect a three hour Springsteen spectacular.

Set List
All Fired Up
Shadows of the Night
Sanctuary
Wide Awake In Dreamland
Invincible
We Live For Love
We Belong
Let's Stay Together
Hell Is For Children
Hit Me With Your Best Shot
Heartbreaker

Encore
Promises in the Dark
Love Is A Battlefield

When saying you don't care isn't enough

So my official first day of school is tomorrow, although we've had Meet the Teacher presentations the last two days. All of my students seem great although the parents just get crazier each year. But my early favorite has to be Robert's mom who arrived fashionably late (i.e. 45 minutes late as I'm getting into my car to head home.) I introduce myself and she tells me that they were running late because the drive-thru at McDonald's was backed up. I didn't dare question this because I looked down to see her t-shirt which read "If I look like I don't care it's because I don't give a sh*t." I don't think even Hemingway could have crafted a more poignant statement.

Getting lucky with Bucky

I'm somewhat embarrassed to admit that I have caught the American Idols Live Tour every year since its inception back in 2001. That means I've suffered through live "performances" by Ejay Day, Carmen Rasmusen, Jasmine Trias, and Scott Savol. So when it was announced that the tour would be coming through Peoria for the first time it was a no brainer that I'd be plunking down $75 a ticket. The thing that I love about the Idol concerts is that you will find people of every age range there from the eight year old girls with their home-made McPheever t-shirts to the seventy-eight year old grandmothers who rocket out of their seats for a chance to dance with Taylor. A lot of kids bring signs that you can tell they spent hours working on even if their favorite Idol wasn't there (sorry Melissa fans). There was actually a forty year old woman with a sign that read "I want to get lucky with Bucky." I can't even begin to imagine the things she has planned for him back at her trailer. Each year it's just a cheesy, fun show and this year was no exception. Here are some observations from last night's show:

* How inappropriate is it for Lisa Tucker to sing "Someone Saved My Life Tonight"? I mean a song that Elton John wrote after contemplating suicide doesn't seem the best match for the rhinestones glued to her

* Elliott has a mouthful of new teeth and maybe even more female fans than either Ace or Chris.

* Mandisa is far more talented than she got the chance to showcase on the show. She should have easily been in the top five.

* Bucky + Kellie + Grease = not a single note in tune

* Chris was the star of the show and still should have won, although Taylor was awesome.

* Due to doctor's restrictions Katharine sang only two songs and unfortunately one of them was the dreaded "Somewhere Over The Rainbow."

Set List

Mandisa: I'm Every Woman; If I Was Your Woman

Mandisa & Ace: I'm Your Angel

Ace: Father Figure; Harder To Breathe

Lisa: Signed, Sealed, Delivered, I'm Yours; Your Song; Someone Saved My Life Tonight

Lisa & Paris: Waterfalls

Paris: Midnight Train To Georgia; Crazy in Love

Bucky: Superstition; Drift Away

Bucky & Kellie: You're The One That I Want

Kellie: I'm The Only One; Something To Talk About; Walkin' After Midnight

Chris: Whole Lotta Love; Wanted Dead Or Alive; Renegade

Chris & Elliott: Savin' Me

Elliott: Never Too Much; Moody's Mood For Love; Trouble

Ace, Bucky, Chris & Elliott: Patience

Katharine: Black Horse and the Cherry Tree; Somewhere Over The Rainbow

Taylor: Jailhouse Rock, Hollywood Nights, Livin' For The City; Do I Make You Proud; Takin' It To The Streets

Mandisa, Ace, Lisa, Paris, Bucky, Kellie, Chris & Elliott: We Are The Champions

Everyone: Living in America

Human guinea pig

Now I'll do anything for some cash or a free meal. In fact I'd even donate my left arm for one of those new potato bowls at KFC. So a couple weeks ago a friend of ours mentioned this research study where they were testing the tetanus vaccine in adults. You get a shot and come back in a month so they can study the results. Now the real selling point is that they pay you $120 to do this. Naturally I signed myself up. This morning when I went to the office they make you read through a fifteen page packet describing the study and potential side effects. Who cares if I get chronic diahrrea for the next five weeks as long as I get the cash. Without reading all of the fine print I sign away and follow the nurse into an exam room. She takes all of my vitals and I wait for the doctor to come in for my physical. A few minutes later he introduces himself and immediately launches into the exam by saying "Now the most uncomfortable part of this will be when I have to examine your scrotum." Just hearing the word scrotum makes me want to forfeit the money and head home. In no other situation would someone use that term within the first ten seconds of meeting them. I mean a waitress doesn't welcome your scrotum before telling you the daily specials. The teller at the bank doesn't ask you to show your scrotum before you are allowed to make a withdrawal. Well come to find out the doctor was trying to be funny because there was no intrusive exam. He listened to me breathe and and pushed on my stomach a few times. Maybe I can use my $120 to fly out to L.A. to watch Dr. Funnybones next season on Last Comic Standing.

The ultimate weight loss solution

Today Ella and I were on route to meet some friends of ours for lunch at this new pizza place that opened in town. We were at a stoplight when I looked out the window to my right just in time to see a teenage girl vomit all over herself while walking down the sidewalk. She then proceeded to wipe off her mouth with the entire length of her arm, take a swig from her Taco Bell cup, and continue on her journey. A little further down the road I get stuck at another stoplight behind a SUV with a bumper sticker that reads "I Heart Calligraphy." I've never known anyone to have such a passion for writing fancy letters. I mean I can understand a doctor having a deep desire to save lives but c'mon does anyone really love adding curlicues to letters? I think not. When we finally arrive at the restaurant there's a line out the door of Pekin's finest (i.e. a mom with seven kids, missing more teeth than Ella, wearing a Reba McEntire tank top, and sporting cut off shorts with way too much camel toe.) When I finally make it up to the register I realize they don't take credit or debit cards and I have $2 in my wallet. Luckily my friend Jeff and his kids bailed me out. We make our way to a table and I pick up a highchair on the way. As I'm putting Ella in it I realize I smell poop. I instinctively lift her butt to my nose and discover it's not coming from her. I put her in the highchair and as I'm strapping her in I discover the origin of the scent. There is relatively fresh diahrrea all over the safety straps. This is when I almost lose it. I yank Ella out and immediately head to the restroom to hose up down. As I opened the door it smelled about twelve times worse in there. For some reason I looked over at the toilet and saw that someone had loaded it up and the water was almost to the top. So I clean both of us up in about nine seconds flat before I began to lose consciousness. We head to the line for the buffet and proceed to get some pizza, pasta, and cinnamon rolls. (No I don't know why they feature cinnamon rolls at a pizza place.) When we return to our table our highchair had been replaced and after a thorough inspection I found it to be free of feces. I take my first bite of pizza and make the mistake of looking over at the next table. Staring back at me is a pig man, which instantly made me think of that Seinfeld episode. The man's face is all scrunched up and he even had little flopped over ears like a pig. The ironic part is that he was eating ham pizza. I adjust my chair in the other direction just in time to see an elderly women take out her dentures and place them in her glass of water to clean after finishing her meal. I realized that this place was a perfect spot for those people who are trying to lose weight. I mean I barely got through a whole slice of pizza. Looking at a pig man while smelling crap is an ingenious way to curb your appetite.

Welcome back from obscurity

Alright so the big story that Entertainment Tonight and E! will be covering tonight is Lance Bass' announcement that he's gay. This is really a non-story. I mean most people saw this coming from a mile away. Does anyone really care? I mean if it was Johnny Depp or something then we'd all be rushing for the new issue of People magazine but not for this spook. Nevertheless it's raised his profile and I'm sure the producers of The Surreal Life are busily burning up the phone lines trying to land him for next season. Maybe this gives hope for those three fans that have been clamoring for a sequel to On The Line. I saw this photo online today and almost peed myself. Insert your own inappropriate Uranus joke here.

Livin' on a prayer

So if the baby news wasn't exciting enough, last night my dad and I headed to north to Chicago to see Bon Jovi for the third time (and the second time in nine months). Naturally some have written the guys off as an 80's hair band, yet they remain as relevant today as they were back in the Reagan administration. Try to name another band from that era that can still churn out hit songs and sell albums and concert tickets two decades later. Here's a hint: You can count them on one finger (U2). This is my third stadium show at Soldier Field after seeing Dave Matthews Band and a now retired boy band that I'm too embarrassed to name, both in 2001. The show itself was a combination of greatest hits, new songs, and album tracks rarely played live. Songs like Livin' on a Prayer and You Give Love A Bad Name are tailor-made for massive outdoor shows like this. You can't help but throw your hands in the air and sing off key. I can't imagine the high it must be to step on stage in front of 60,000 people and have them sing your songs back to you. It's amazing to me that even after consuming 27 beers throughout the show fans still can sing every single line of Wanted Dead or Alive. I must admit that Chicago seems much more well-adjusted than Milwaukee. Really the only freak in the crowd was a guy who used binoculars not to see the band up-close but to check out all of the exposed breasts (most of which looked more like Jessica Tandy than Jessica Simpson). As an added note there were two celebrity sightings at the concert. First, slutty Denise Richards hung out on the side of the stage for the last half of the show. If you're Richie Sanbora why on earth would you leave Heather Locklear for a skank like that? It's one of life's most thought-provoking questions. Second, Molly Shannon was a section over from us and several rows up. It's nice to know that my teacher's salary can afford better seats than Mary Katherine Gallagher. I guess the residual checks from those Superstar DVD sales have dried up.

Set List

Last Man Standing

You Give Love A Bad Name
Complicated
Born To Be My Baby
Story Of My Life
Captain Crash & The Beauty Queen From Mars
I'll Sleep When Im Dead

Dancin' in the Streets
Runaway
The Radio Saved My Life Tonight
In These Arms
Always
I'll Be There For You
Have A Nice Days
Who Says You Can't Go Home
Raise Your Hands
Bad Medicine

Shout
Livin' on a Prayer

Encore
Just Older
Wanted Dead or Alive
It's My Life
Blood On Blood
Someday I'll Be Saturday Night
Treat Her Right

Keep the Faith

Back to Milwaukee

So I vowed a month ago that I wouldn't be returning to Milwaukee any time soon. When I made that statement I happened to forget that I had already purchased tickets to see Faith Hill and Tim McGraw in that fair city. So yesterday Rachel and I headed back up for a return engagement. I wish I had better news, but I honestly think the place has gotten even weirder in the last five weeks. So we arrived at the Bradley Center and discovered that our seats were only twelve rows from the stage. So far so good until soon after our arrival Milwaukee's finest begin coming out of the woodwork. A fifty-year old man two rows in front of us walked in dressed head to toe in American Eagle's summer line. There comes a time in everyone's life when you have to realize that you can't dress like your fourteen year old child. I speak the same message to many of those ticket holders from last night. Learn to dress appropriately. Ladies, if your boobs hang past your belly button, then it's probably time to retire that baby tee that says "Hottie." The woman sitting next to Rachel looked like Dame Judi Dench from the wrong side of the tracks. She was dressed in all black with the requisite cowboy hat on. Rach commented that she smelled like a combination of cigarettes, beer, and nachos, which usually I find irresistable. Now she and her daughter were huge Tim fans and loathed Faith. Whenever she came to our side of the stage the two of them booed her. The kicker was that at one point she returned from the concession stand with a soft pretzel. As she was making her way down the row to her seat she dropped it behind the seat in front of her where it landed on the floor. Reaching down she picked the pretzel up after several seconds of searching and proceeded to take a big bite. I mean three dollars is a lot of money to waste on a pretzel. A man a few rows behind us showed up by himself and managed to sit down and just stare at everyone, especially the young girls. Rachel swears that she saw him on one of those Dateline pedophile investigations. A guy a few rows closer to the stage was dressed in a white fitted wife beater, tight Wrangler jeans, a shell necklace, dark sunglasses, a white cowboy hat, and a spray on tan. At first I thought that he was trying to be Kenny Chesney but when he started dancing I soon realized that he wanted to have sex with Kenny Chesney. He had that whole gay man pelvic thrust where he was just grinding away in thin air. And I can't help but mention my two female friends a couple rows away. It's bad enough that they stood up through the entire concert singing off key. The best (or worst) part of it was that as they continued to guzzle down more Mike's Hard Lemonade the more touchy feely the got. By the end of the show they were like Ellen and Anne back in the good old days.

Now I would be remiss if I didn't tell about the actual show (even though the supporting players were worth the $85 price tag). Faith opened her part of the show with Mississippi Girl, a song that I'm embarrassed to admit that I turn up and sign along to in the car. It's gay I know. Actually it's just a glorified Sounthern remake of Jenny From The Block. The rest of the songs she performed from her latest album were just hit (Fireflies) or miss (The Lucky One). Faith delivered all of her biggest hits, including This Kiss, which seemed to be the crowd's favorite. My one disappointment was when she sang Cry. Instead of showcasing this big pop power ballad she chose to do it accoustically which made it dull and lifeless. Oh I did have one more disappointment. When she performed Breathe she forgot to writhe around naked in a sheet like in the video. Maybe she's saving that for the next tour.

When Tim took the stage it was apparent that most of the crowd was there for him. The first few notes of Real Good Man were almost drowned out by the audience. All three of the songs he performed from his new greatest hits album were terrible. I mean it made Taylor Hicks' Do I Make You Proud song sound like Hey Jude. My other problem came when he let the crowd sing most of his biggest hits. I came to hear Tim sing Live Like You Were Dying, not the skank sporting the Marlboro t-shirt and missing teeth.

My real draw for going to the show was the chance to see the two of them sing together, which they did intermittantly throughout the two and a half hour spectacle. A couple of the songs were about breaking up so it made perfect sense for the two of them to have their backs to one another. However, when you sing a song called Let's Make Love it probably helps if you acknowledge one another's presence. Not even on their blockbuster hit It's Your Love did they even get within thirty feet of one another. Is there a restraining order in place that none of us are aware of? I mean they made Charlie Sheen and Denise Richards look like love-struck newlyweds. It wasn't until the very last song of the show that they finally sat across from one another to share a microphone. By that time it was too little, too late.

Set List

TIM & FAITH:

Like We Never Loved at All

FAITH:

Mississippi Girl
The Way You Love Me
Sunshine & Summertime
Fireflies
This Kiss
Let Me Let Go
Stealing Kisses
The Lucky One
Cry
There Will Come a Day
It is Well With My Soul
Breathe
Piece Of My Heart

TIM & FAITH:

Angry All the Time
Let's Make Love

TIM:

Real Good Man
Where the Green Grass Grows
Don't Take the Girl
Just to See You Smile
My Little Girl
Something Like That
When the Stars Go Blue
Live Like You Were Dying
Unbroken
The Cowboy in Me
I've Got Friends That Do
I Like It, I Love It

TIM & FAITH:

Shotgun Rider
It's Your Love
No Woman, No Cry
I Need You

A restroom with a view

Last night I was helping out with the kids at church. It was about time to go so I started putting things away. A table needed wiped down because it was covered with chocolate pudding from a game we had played earlier. I grabbed a paper towel and headed to the boys restroom to dampen it. As I was wringing it out I heard a rustling in the stall next door. I peeked my head around to make sure everything was alright when I got quite an eyeful. The stall door was wide open and a woman in her mid-50s was sitting on the toilet with her pants down to her ankles fully exposed. Needless to say it wasn't a pretty picture. I let out an uncomfortable "Oh, I'm sorry" as though I needed to be the one to apologize for being in there. I hid for a few minutes to avoid running into her. If only it had been that easy. Just as I was sneaking back in the room I came face-to-face with my poopy friend. She apologized, saying that she didn't realize it was the boys restroom. Where exactly was the little girls room she wanted to know for next time. Okay lady, here's a tip. The next time you feel the need to relieve yourself lock the door. That's all I ask.

My ears are bleeding

This morning I went to do my civic duty and gave blood. One of the nursing homes in town was sponsoring the blood drive. As soon as I stepped foot inside the building I was almost overtaken by a smell that I can only explain as a cross between death and diarrhea. I checked in at the front desk and a woman with an unnaturally orange tan handed me a binder of information. I thumbed through the pages to make sure I was a suitable donor. I can't say that I have ever had a bovine injection from a cow. I am not currently being treated for herpes. And no I have never traded drugs for sex (although I have tried unsuccessfully on a few occasions). Satisfied that I was alright to proceed, the talking carrot told me to take a seat and wait for my name to be called.

I picked a chair and took in my surroundings. There were three men and four women, all elderly and in wheelchairs, just hanging out. I popped in my headphones and started listening to my iPod. Seven seconds into "Shake Ya Tailfeather" I felt a tug on left sleeve. I looked over to find one of the men. He asked me "Is the Red Cross sponsoring this?" I responded "Ya, I think so" and pointed to the wall directly in front of us. Hanging there was a massive banner that read "The American Red Cross thanks Pekin for all of your donations of blood today." Seeming satisfied the man wheeled away.

A few minutes later as Nelly and Diddy were fading away, I watched a different man head over. He parked his wheelchair right beside me and said "I had my first heart attack in 1972." Oh man, not one of these old guys, I thought to myself. But not wanting to be rude I acted interested and said a brief "Oh ya?" He told me all about his doctor, his surgeries, and his diet, which led him to ask "So how long have you been wearing your heart monitor?" When I told him I didn't have one he pointed to my headphones. All this time he thought I had on a heart monitor. Now I'm not a doctor but the last time I read Physicians Monthly there was no mention of a heart monitor on the market that connected to your ears. Not really caring that he had been confused, he kept talking about his angioplasty and how the doctor lost two balloons inside his heart. Is he serious or has he become one of the oldest viewers of Grey's Anatomy? Thankfully an orderly came by and told him that it was time for his monthly haircut. We said our goodbyes and off he went.

I retreated to my iPod and scrolled up to Coldplay. Halfway through "The Scientist" I noticed one of the ladies staring at me. I gave her a brief smile and quietly prayed that she wouldn't take my gesture as an invite. No such luck. She slowly raised herself out of her wheelchair and hobbled over. I hit the pause button for the third time just as she unsteadily sat down. She said "Oh my, you look just like that man from CNN." Before I could ask whether she meant Larry King or Anderson Cooper, the nurse called my name. We said our farewells and I vanished. In hindsight, the weird thing is that the actual process of giving blood was less painful than waiting to donate.

Love on four wheels

Last night we went to Wal-Mart to get some items for Ella's birthday party. I was loading groceries into the trunk when an elderly woman and her just as frail husband in a wheelchair passed by. She said to him "Let's head on home where all the magic happens." My sick mind immediately pictured two sharpei puppies with their wrinkled skin hanging off their bodies tangled up together making out. Instead I'm hoping that this "magic" consisted of a Ben Gay rubdown, taking prescription medication together, soaking their dentures in a new glass of Polident, reading the latest issue of AARP Magazine, adjusting each other's hearing aids, or watching Matlock reruns. Here's a magic trick I'd like to see performed. Next time when old people are talking about having sex, make me deaf.

If it makes you happy

I love the summer because it's typically the time of year you find artists criss-crossing the country on tour. This summer I have tickets to shows that I know I will get tons of crap for going to. (I mean how I could I pass up the chance to see Bucky Covington live?) So our summer concert jaunt began last night in Bloomington with Sheryl Crow. I have wanted to see her live for several years now and finally had the opportunity. The worst concerts are those where the act sings almost everything from their new album and only does a few hits. (You listening Madonna?) Luckily that wasn't the case last night. Crow performed all the standards that people plopped down $55 to hear (If It Makes You Happy, All I Wanna Do, The First Cut Is The Deepest). She also did a number of my favorite album cuts that only I seemed to recognize (Hard To Make A Stand, Maybe Angels, Mississippi). You can always identify the people who haven't been to a concert since 1985. A woman behind me almost burst into tears as Crow exited the stage. "But she didn't sing Soak Up The Sun," she wailed. It's called an encore, honey. Two minutes later they swooped back on stage for three more songs, including you guessed it Soak Up The Sun. In short, it was a wonderfully low-key gig that showcased why Sheryl Crow is still a star thirteen years after being named Best New Artist at the Grammys.

Set List

Run Baby Run

Hard To Make A Stand

Maybe Angels
Good Is Good

Letter To God

My Favorite Mistake
The First Cut Is The Deepest

I Know Why

Leaving Las Vegas
Mississippi

Strong Enough
Chances Are

If It Makes You Happy

Riverwide

It Don't Hurt

Always On Your Side

All I Wanna Do
A Change Would Do You Good

Encore

Soak Up The Sun

Everyday Is A Winding Road
Safe and Sound

What a prick

So the last few weeks of this Midwestern summer have been a nuisance to my allergies. (And with that stimulating opening sentence I'd like to say farewell to those who have already zoned out.) Today I went to visit my allergy doctor to see what's going on. She suggested that I take an extensive skin test to see what allergies I'm dealing with. Basically this very technical procedure involves the doctor pricking my back with toothpicks 47 times. Each prick tests for a different allergy and if it causes a reaction that means you have that particular ailment. Within two minutes my back is on fire. Fifteen minutes later the doctor walks in and says "Whoa, I think I need to get my sunglasses." I think that was her ever so comical way of saying that my back was bright red. She states that she has never seen a patient react with this many allergies. The next thing I know she has corralled two nurses, another doctor, and a guy that looks like Steve Sanders from 90210. They all stare down at me, intently studying the lying freak show with the rash they only have ever seen in a medical school textbook. In the end out of the 47 allergies they tested for I have 43 of them. (Try harder next time molds.) So basically I shouldn't mow the lawn, adopt a cat, take up smoking, rake leaves, get stung by a wasp, cut down a tree, take up a career arranging flowers, or jog through a field of poppies. Welcome to the life of a shut-in.

Truth in advertising

This morning I ran through the McDonald's drive-through on my way to summer school. The woman at the window handed me my coffee and said that it was "almost as good as Starbucks." I responded with an unexciting "Oh really?" She stated, "We're not quite there yet but we're working on it." Is this their new slogan? Why are they comparing themselves negatively to other companies? Maybe on my way home I will stop back by to order a Big Mac, which I'm sure they will hype as "the burger that sucks compared to a Whopper."

Milwaukee, the nation's most annoying city

Why is it that wherever I go I always get stuck next to the most obnoxious people? Yesterday I journeyed to Miller Park in Milwaukee to watch the Cardinals/Brewers game. Let's just say I won't be making a return trip any time soon. The man sitting in front of me kept spewing forth these obscure Brewers statistics to his two sons. I mean did you know that pitcher Mike Caldwell led the American League in complete games in 1978 with 23? Now I do, and I also know everything I never cared to know about Teddy Higuera, Dave Nilsson, Moose Haas, Geoff Jenkins, and countless other players I've never even heard of. Meanwhile, the guy sitting next to me was diligently keeping track of the game by filling out his scorecard. The problem was that he was so focused on his scorecard that he wasn't keeping track of the game. Whenever he heard the crowd cheer he would lean over to ask what he just missed. I'm thinking about taking up a career in sports journalism after becoming his personal sportscaster for the day.

Wide-eyed

Tonight I drank two cups of coffee at Ethan's birthday party, stopped by Starbucks on the way home, and drank a Coke with our late-night Chinese take-out. So it should come as no surprise that I'm wide awake. I've sat through a terrible SNL repeat with Jack Black, completed a crossword puzzle, read the first two chapters of Anderson Cooper's book, checked my email, scanned the Friday box office report, and glanced at the World Cup scores (not that any of us here in the U.S. even pretend to remotely care. I mean that Argentina/Cote D'Ivoire match was a real nail-biter right? Anyone with me?). So now I'm watching video from Sarah Kelly's industry showcase last night while trying to find on the seating chart where Dad and I are sitting for the Cardinals game tomorrow. Oh ya, we're leaving at 7:00 a.m. to head to Milwaukee. I'm trying to download some CD's to listen to on the way there or I'll get stuck digesting countless classic rock stations. There's only so much Kansas a guy can handle in a four-hour morning drive. Well enough rambling for now as it is time to force myself to go to bed. Good luck tomorrow Croatia. Beat those Brazilians.