Archives for February 2013

Who Blogs About Laundry

Laundry in the river in Abidjan, Ivory Coast.

Laundry in the river in Abidjan, Ivory Coast. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Who blogs about laundry isn’t the sexiest headline you have ever read nor is it as suggestive as writing 69 reasons why dad bloggers do it better than mom bloggers.

Although it bears noting that many mom bloggers have suggested that if their husbands did the laundry they might be up for more sexy time with their men. However there is evidence that suggests that dudes who do laundry won’t be doing the horizontal mambo with mama, so put down the Tide and back away.

I Am Not A Fan Of Folding Shirts

I am not a fan of folding shirts which is part of the reason why there is a stack of clean shirts on my bed. They aren’t balled or crumpled up. They are lying flat, one on top of the other right next to the laundry basket.

They have been there for close to three hours and were my children here I would have already folded and put them away. That is part of the “dad is a good role model” deal I made when I became a father.

But since they aren’t here I didn’t have to rush to put them away.

Nor did I have to use a glass, silverware or a plate for my dinner. Someone tell my mom I am sorry but the chance to live as a bachelor doesn’t come along very often so I am taking it.

My Kitchen

You didn’t ask but my kitchen and bathroom are clean and the overall state of this joint is one that would pass inspection. You might not give me an ‘A’ rating but you wouldn’t fail me either.

The  joy of temporary bachelorhood doesn’t mean I am a slob– it just means I get to loosen up around the edges.

But one of the reasons beyond the need for clean underwear that I chose to do laundry during the week and not this weekend is so I could have time to enjoy the weekend. Got a couple of movies to see and maybe a carnival to check out.

In between it all I plan on searching for a new gym to play ball at and maybe to begin swimming again.


Don’t ask me to explain how I moved from blogging about laundry to writing about how I want to find a swimming pool to start training in again because I can’t explain it. What I can tell you is once upon a time I swam competitively and I am interested in doing so again.

The hardest part about it isn’t finding a pool because that is easy. No, what is hard is deciding that I am willing to undergo six months of hell because it is going to take that long to get myself into the kind of shape I want to be in.

Three months of hard work to get myself into the kind of shape I need to be in to start training and then three months of training so that I can start really training.

I may be a dreamer but I am also a realist and I know from experience what it is I am looking at, but the upside here is huge.

The Future

The beauty of swimming is that it is a tremendous workout that is low impact which means you can do this for years. It is not an exaggeration to say it could be life changing and provide countless benefits potentially for the rest of my life.

That is the kind of upside you can’t talk enough about nor should you ignore it.

Really, it is the sort of opportunity that you should run towards and not from.And I plan on getting to it just as soon as I finish folding these shirts.

The Cure For A Bad Day

If you are in need of a smile maybe this will help.

ANGER MANAGEMENT When you occasionally have a really bad day, and you just need to take it out on someone, don’t take it out on someone you know, take it out on someone you don’t know.

It all started one day when I was sitting at my desk and remembered a phone call I had forgotten to make. I found the number and dialed it.

A man answered, saying, “Hello.” I politely said, “This is Chris. May I please speak with Robin Carter?”

Suddenly, the phone was slammed down on me. I couldn’t believe that anyone could be so rude.

I tracked down Robin’s correct number and called her. I had transposed the last two digits of her phone number. After hanging up with her, I decided to call the ‘wrong’ number again.

When the same guy answered the phone, I yelled, “You’re an asshole!” and hung up. I wrote his number down with the word ‘asshole’ next to it, and put it in my desk drawer.

Every couple of weeks, when I was paying bills or had a really bad day, I’d call him up and yell, “You’re an asshole!” It always cheered me up.

When Caller ID came to our area, I thought my therapeutic ‘asshole’ calling would have to stop. So, I called his number and said: “Hi, this is John Smith from the Telephone Company. I’m just calling to see if you’re interested in the Caller ID program?” He yelled “NO!” and slammed the phone down.

I quickly called him back and said, “That’s because you’re an asshole!”

One day I was at the store, getting ready to pull into a parking spot. Some guy in a black BMW cut me off and pulled into the spot I had patiently waited for. I hit the horn and yelled that I had been waiting for the spot. The idiot ignored me. I noticed a “For Sale” sign in his car window, so I wrote down his number.

A couple of days later, right after calling the first asshole (I had his number on speed dial), I thought I had better call the BMW asshole, too.

I said, “Is this the man with the black BMW for sale?”
“Yes, it is.” “Can you tell me where I can see it?”
“Yes, I live at 1802 West 34th Street. It’s a yellow house, and the car’s parked right out in front.”
“What’s your name?” “My name is Don Burgemeyer,” he said.

“When’s a good time to catch you, Don?”

“I’m home every evening after five.”

“Listen, Don, can I tell you something?”

“Yes?” “Don, you’re an asshole.”

Then I hung up, and added his number to my speed dial, too.

Now, when I had a problem, I had two assholes to call. But after several months of calling them, it wasn’t as enjoyable as it used to be.

So, I came up with an idea. I called Asshole #1.

“You’re an asshole!” (But I didn’t hang up.)

“Are you still there?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said.

“Stop calling me,” he screamed.

“Make me,” I screamed back.

“Who are you?” he demanded.

“My name is Don Burgemeyer.”

“Yeah? Where do you live?”

“I live at 1802 West 34th Street, ASSHOLE!

It’s a yellow house, with my black beemer parked in front.”

He said, “I’m coming over there right now, Don. And you had better start saying your prayers.”

I said, “Yeah, like I’m really scared, asshole.”

Then I called Asshole #2.

“Hello?” he said. “Hello, asshole,” I said…again, without hanging up.

He yelled, “If I ever find out who you are!”

“Yeah, you’ll what?” I said. “I’ll kick your ass,” he exclaimed.

I answered, Well, asshole, here’s your chance. I’m coming over right now.”

Then I hung up and immediately called the police, saying that I lived at 1802 West 34th Street, and that I was on my way home to kill my gay lover.

Then I called Channel 9 News to let them know about the war going down on West 34th Street.

I quickly got into my car and headed over to 34th street.

There I saw two assholes beating the crap out of each other in front of six squad cars, a police helicopter, and a news crew.

NOW, I feel better.

Anger management really works!!!

I run this post every so often because it makes people smile and it is what you call evergreen. Most of the time it is under the headline Anger Management.

I am not the official author and have yet to find him/her. If I do I will be glad to provide full attribution.

What Happens When You Stop Blogging?

I wasn't hiding out here.

I wasn’t hiding out here.

I don’t know what happens when you stop blogging because I have never stopped for longer than five days. Heck, unless I am mistaken the past five days in which I didn’t update the blog is the longest time I have gone without blogging…ever.

Ok sticklers, let me qualify that and say it is the longest time I have gone since I started blogging in ’04. It is probably worth noting I rarely update two or three times a day as I used to, so in some respects it feels like I hardly blog at all.

Unplanned Unplugging

I hadn’t planned on unplugging for as long as I did, it just worked out that way.

I went on a short trip and decided not to bring my laptop with me and didn’t feel like typing on my phone or iPad.  I took notes about what happened around me and had a million different experiences that I could have written about, but never did feel the urge to share it with you.

Can’t remember the last time I didn’t feel like blogging, but I just didn’t feel it.

There were one or two times where I sort of wondered why I wasn’t typing. There were moments where I wondered why I wasn’t taking heed of my own advice to write daily but most of the time I just didn’t care.

So I unplugged from the blogosphere and did other things.

It was very pleasant.

Did Anyone Care?

A few days into the “unplanned unplugging”? I took a look at my stats and noticed that there wasn’t much of a dip or change. Those of you who are most devoted checked in on a regular basis and the rest of you did whatever it is you do when you aren’t here.

The question of “Did anyone care” is really more rhetorical than anything else.

Most of want to think that our absence would be noted immediately and that the world would stop spinning if we weren’t around to share our tales but the reality for most of us is different.

People move on and find new things to read/watch/do.

Would I like things to be otherwise? Would I like for people to gnash their teeth and beg me to come back?



Really, I am not sure about it.

Part of me likes the idea. Part of me likes it because everyone wants to feel wanted, loved, needed and valued. But part of me doesn’t like it much. It reminds me of a story I just read about Michael Jordan.

It was really interesting and I could write about multiple sections, but this one is of particular interest to me:

Jordan is alone.

He hates being alone, because that means it’s quiet, and he doesn’t like silence. He can’t sleep without noise. Sleep has always been a struggle for him. All the late-night card games, the trips to the casino during the playoffs, they’ve been misunderstood. They weren’t the disease, they were the cure. They provided noise, distraction, a line of defense. He didn’t even start drinking until he was 27 and complained of insomnia to a doctor. Have a few beers after the game, he was advised. That would knock off the edge.

I don’t want to be that guy. I don’t want to be the guy who becomes so important to everyone else they are willing to cater to his every whim, even if it goes beyond selfish.

I don’t want to be the guy who can’t rest at night because he can’t find a way to be at peace with himself. I don’t know what it means to be the best ever at anything, but I know something about a fire in the belly and the desire to chase after the faeries of the night.

I know what it means to burn, but I also know what it means to close my eyes at night and feel good because I did what I needed to do and I am excited about the next day. That article makes me wonder about Jordan.

What Happens When You Stop Blogging?

I don’t know what the answer is other than to say I think it is subjective. The answer is different for all of us and contingent upon what we want.

Can’t say when I’ll decide to hang up my keyboard either, but I hope that when I do I haven’t any problem walking away. I hope that when I have had enough I ride off into the sunset and never feel the need to look back.

The Best Cover Letter Ever…Revisited

Dear Mr. Johnson,

Many years ago in a galaxy far, far away there was simple farmer named Luke. I am not talking about the Luke Duke who drove the General Lee, but the man who blew up the Death Star and defeated the emperor.

Those are pretty big accomplishments for a simple farmer. I can be that guy for you. All you have to do is hire me and I can be your Luke. That is a pretty good deal for you because that would make you Obi Wan-Kenobi. Of course I can’t promise you that I’ll save you from Darth Vader or anyone going postal in the office.

In fact if someone freaks out I just might hide in a cubicle. But the good news is that I am a pretty good shot with rubber bands and paper clips. So if you keep me supplied I might be able to shoot someone in the eye. So in reality that is of benefit to you.

Let’s take a moment to review some of the other reasons why it would be stupid not to hire me.

The class of 1986 voted me Most Likely to Drive an Ice Cream Truck. That is the kind of honor that not everyone receives. It is proof that they believed that I would be great at running my own franchise and that I am conscientious worker. Not everyone can keep the ice cream from melting or do simple math. Give me a $1.50 for a Bomb Pop and I’ll give you proper change, unless of course you charge $1.65 in which case I’ll ask you for more money.

As a boy scout I always won the campfire contest. That is the one where you are tested to see who can start a fire the fastest. Not every carries a Bic Lighter and some hair spray around, but I do because you never know when you might need a fire.

I am really good at microwaving popcorn. Not everyone knows how to do it, but I do. I won’t make the office stink. Unless you take me out for Mexican food or feed me dairy. But heck, lactose intolerance is a certifiable medical condition. And since you are a professional you must know that we all deal with occasional bouts of flatulence. That is why I like to play the radio at my desk, so that no one has to listen to uncomfortable noises.

Unlike other employees I won’t lie about why I am missing work. Sometimes I just don’t feel like coming in, we all need personal time. I am sure that you agree that this is the sort of honesty your company needs.

Which I suppose is why you really don’t need to interview anyone else for the job. Really, you should just call me and tell me when I can come in to sign papers. Probably better to do it sooner so that my medical benefits kick in. That way I can be sure to bring you a real doctor’s note when I am out sick.

Do you see how I just proved my honesty again. I won’t fake a doctor’s note, I’ll get you a real one that you can show everyone so that when I am out on disability no one feels badly. Anyway, it sounds like we have worked most of this out. Call me and I’ll tell you what bank I use so that we can set up a direct deposit account.

Thank you for being so cool. I look forward to coming in. May the Force be with you.


Jack, the guy who can’t wait to be your Luke.

(This is what you call evergreen material. It originally ran here.)

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