A different kind of twitter

This morning I was awakened by the dreaded chirping of a smoke detector with a low battery.  I did what anyone whose house is not on fire, nor is in imminent danger of being on fire, would do.  I unplugged the damn thing.  Ah, peace and quiet...*chirp*...*chirp*...I took the battery out of the smoke detector that was already unplugged and then put the empty, unplugged detector in the living room.

At last, I was able to get some much desired sleeping in time on my day off...*chirp*...*chirp*...I wrapped the wretched device in a towel and put it in my kitchen pantry.  That ought to do it.  Finally some beauty rest, 40 winks, log sawing time...*chirp*...*chirp*...what the hell kind of super-powered demon machine was this smoke detector?  Then I realized we have two in very close proximity to each other.  I mean seriously, we don't even need two in our whole apartment let alone two this close to each other:

"Hi-ho, neighbor Tim!"

Of course, it might be better said to say we "had" two smoke detectors in close proximity as they now both reside elsewhere.  Although, come to think of it, they are even closer to each other than they used to be:

 Is it ironic that they are next to hot sauce?

I'm on the fence about whether or not I am going to put them back as in my experience smoke detectors have done nothing but drain batteries and then chirp incessantly until I replace the batteries only to go through the process again.  If you want to smoke in our apartment, now's your chance.

9 Followers and Counting

Almost two weeks into the Twitter experiment and I am proud to say I have something to show for it.  Nine followers!  And if any of you nine are reading right now, thank you.  Especially my first follower "German ignacio rojas," whoever the hell you are.  Naturally when I saw that gentleman become my first new Twitter friend my prior reservations were confirmed: Twitter is pointless to a guy like me who doesn't understand it.

I theorize that people my age are not of the Twitter generation.  We do fine with Facebook and various other "check me out, I'm awesome" sights, but we don't "get" Twitter.  If there is anything to get, that is.  For one thing, why post on Twitter at all if my post can be linked to my Facebook account which my friends actually look at and comment on?  And it isn't as though everyone's fancy phone can't access Twitter, Facebook, and a million other Websites.  For me, I don't need to be on a bunch of different sights talking about my day.  One should suffice.

However, I will admit the one thing that draws me in is the 140 character gimmick.  It is fun trying to write such a brief synopsis of my thoughts.  I will also grant that if I better understood the "@" and the "#" it would be fun to talk to celebrities and pay attention to what is trending, respectively.  But in truth I feel too removed from the Twitter culture.  It seems like a more impersonal way for us to pretend we are being personal.

All that said, I am gonna stick with it at least until I get to 50 followers, and probably beyond.  I created the profile, I might as well use it.  You've suck me in again technology-based cultural movement!

I was determined to never sign up for or use Twitter. Tweets were for famous people who did truly fascinating things. What would I Tweet about? Preparing an analytic report #numbercrunchinghurtsmyhead? Watching Maddie chase a squirrel #betterthanpickingupdogpoop? I mean, sure, there's plenty of exciting things in life to announce like getting engaged, having a baby, finding a new job...but just in general? And if I were to do Twitter, I really wanted to make it worth my while. Anyone who knows me knows I can't exactly just do something a little bit; I usually attack a task with the zealotry of a sugar addict in Disney's confectionary.

It took me almost 30 minutes to pick a handle. Very self-defining that Twitter name, especially for something I had been determined not to care about *cough* *cough* Everything I wanted was taken, and, having wanted to incorporate John's nickname for me of "Boom," finally settled on KPBoom. First initial, last initial of future surname. With that accomplished, I had to think of something prolific to Tweet. It was my first, after all, and if I ended up liking this, became a celebrity, or acquired an alarming number of followers before my Tweets became truly cool, the initial Tweet was very important.

@SamuelLJackson & Bruce Willis should really do more movies together.

Yup, that was it. Enamored this week with a resurgence of Die Hard movies and watching Jeremy Irons get a beat down, it seemed appropriate. I was a Tweeter and the person who handled Samuel L Jackson's account would read my message! I felt a slight twinge of...what was that? Intrigue! What else could I Tweet? Would John and I meet our goal of 50 followers at the end of this two week challenge? Would what I wrote be relevant and interesting?

Much to my chagrin, we'll soon find out. I hope the dark side does have cookies because we're in it for the long haul.

Rocket ship builder, pizza expert, loves the Giants, parent.

The title of this particular entry refers to the example info one can supply about themselves when becoming a new Twitter member.  That is something I swore I would never do, but for the sake of experimentation I have done the unthinkable.  I've posted a "tweet."  Perhaps it is my attitude about the whole thing, but I prefer calling them "twats" and I feel like all tenses on Twitter should be some form of "twat."

So like I said, I've now exposed my first twat, and boy was it ever anti-climatic.  For one thing I am forced to immediately start following celebrities (and then people I actually know and might truly give a damn about what they are doing) before I can even start talking about me, me, me.  Isn't the whole point of Twitter to tell everyone about what I am doing and get all eyes on me?  Why would I look elsewhere before trying to get people to look at me?

Needless to say I was less than enamored to begin with and the initial process has done little to ingratiate me.  That being said, if you are reading this and are on Twitter, please follow me @johnpricesright.  I know it must be exciting the thought of following someone on Twitter who hates Twitter, but the current Two Weeker Kieley and I have set in front of ourselves is to try to obtain 50 followers before August 5th.  I am already following 15 people merely by signing on to Twitter.  So what are you waiting for?  Currently I have twatted about the ending of The Dark Knight Rises, so #spoileralert if you know what I'm sayin'.

Like moving to Chicago for five months before moving back to DC, this should be an interesting look at two people stepping out of their comfort zone.

Eye of the Beholder

16. What makes a person attractive, in your opinion?

See: Man in picture above. But this is a blog and John's face doesn't explain everything behind the man I love, though it covers some very nice ground.

I think this is a very interesting question to consider, as people tend to answer with basic similar responses before tacking on their own individual quirks (must like Munster cheese, would enjoy hot air balloon rides over the Appalachians, likes to do chores in the nude, etc.). Coincidentally, as someone is describing their ideal mate you learn just as much about them.

See: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=guinBnWWuKE

My personal opinion has retained a core nebula of attractive traits for as long as I can remember: confidence, good sense of humor, doesn't mind being a dork, likes a quiet night in with good food and a good flick, likes dogs, willing to kill large bugs and hairy arachnids. If I had to have a "type," I would say tall, dark-haired, a capable sort of man's man who doesn't wear popped collars or checkered golf shorts. And as I grew up and older, learning from relationships what I didn't want and what I did deserve, that list expanded to things like must respect me, work in equal partnership, be honest and open, willing to pursue and carryout dreams, embrace the desire to just be themselves and love another with the openness and eagerness that they want as well.

When I met John for the first time, I entered into our date with a primary acknowledgement. After having been in DC for a short while and having tried Match.com for a few months, I was tired of "okay dates" or "dates who didn't look like their pictures" or "dates who brought crickets to chirp in the background" or "dates who took my natural sunny demeanor for 'let's go back to your place and finish this wine after I awkwardly kiss you in the middle of the street'." Anyone who has tried online dating is aware of the risks: great guys, okay guys, nightmare guys. It's just like meeting in the real world except you get to read their resume first...and as some people spin quite a professional yarn, so do the romantic hopefuls of cyberspace. Sam and Becky, two of our good friends, have hatched a plan with us to launch "Rematch" at some point in the near future where Match alumni can network to pair previous flops...okay, so this isn't a serious business model, but might at least lead to Kardashian-esque reality television and a line of musky perfume.

John was going to be my last Match date. We'd had a great phone date the week prior, but meeting in person would determine if this great big experiment could offer any merit.

Well, I took one look at the smile he gave me while waiting outside the Cleveland Park metro stop and that was that. We've been together ever since. I didn't expect to meet the love of my life that chilly February night, but I discovered someone who was everything I'd spent my entire life looking for. Someone who made my heart whole and allowed me to be entirely myself. John became attractive to me in an entirely new light because yes, he was all that I wanted, though he was also more. We began to grow not just as individuals, but as a couple. Building a life together creates so many incredible new meanings and experiences that change the world around you for the better. That's pretty darn attractive.

No Chance in Hell

My friend, who goes by the handle jannetty81, had an insightful response to my post from yesterday that I wanted to share with everyone.  For those who haven't read yesterday's piece, you may click here.  His comment is in the blog, but also pasted below:

Ha...what a topic for a Monday night. Scarier yet...I'm so intrigued that I'm choosing to respond...and it's still Monday night?!

While you've framed the post on the idea of having/not having children, I believe your words tap into an even deeper question about life...and things and stuff. When one talks about having children and investing so greatly in another being, one may also being facing the cold, hard facts about mortality. I think your last paragraph speaks to that concept, especially. 

This post started with a question about having kids, and ended up asking several more questions. One observation that I feel comfortable sharing...we sure have entered the next phases of our lives. In fact...somehow I'm waist deep in it, already. It seems that you may be, too.

I'll also say this...I would certainly feel a deep attachment to an adopted child. Just think about it...that child was probably dealt just about the worst hand possible. But then...you came along...and gave that child a flush on the river (heh heh...I know, it's cheesy). So make no mistake about it...that gesture would be giving and altruistic. However, in some ways it is also incredibly selfish...but in a good way. That bond would be as strong as any that I could imagine. If you're looking into having children, certainly that is among the top reasons.

First of all, this topic will scare a young man to talk about any day of the week.  Secondly, not all readers are in the same place as jannetty81 and myself, but I think most everyone can relate to the dilemma.  I know some families that have had their own children as well as taken the opportunity to adopt.  Not only does it satisfy both means of raising children, but it creates a diverse family dynamic from which both sets of children can learn great things.

But enough about yesterday, on to today's questions.  Again, if you want to play along in any fashion be sure to click here for the site where we draw the questions from.

50. If you could work for anyone you choose, who would it be and why?


Anyone that has known me long enough knows that I am an unabashed wrestling fanatic, so my dream boss if I had to pick one would probably be wrestling czar Vince McMahon.  That's where my mind zoomed to immediately, but then I thought about what a workaholic anyone who runs their own company must be.  In McMahon's case I have seen numerous examples to prove that notion but in front of cameras and behind the scenes.


The fact is this is true of all the entrepreneurs I know.  From the WWE all the way down to the little kids running their lemonade stands in the summer every one of them has two things in common: dedication to and a passion for what they do.  Yes, I am passionate about wrestling.  Hell, I could even say that I am passionate about my current job at Whole Foods Market to an extent, but I think ultimately my true passion is being independent.  Thus, while it would be nice to be working underneath wrestling's God, I would feel like I was giving my life to him.

That has been the issue I have had with all of my jobs; it feels like I am doing them for someone else.  So the true answer to this question is that the person I would most like to work for is me.  What would be my business?  Well, I haven't figured that out yet, but I am working on that right now...well not right now, but in this current period of my life.  I think if I could have a business of my own that that might be a job to which I was willing to give my whole life.  Even if it ends up being just a little old lemonade stand.






That's all for today.  Be sure to check out Kieley's work as well as she is a more polished, soon to be published writer.


This one is about her mom.  I think we all can relate to many of the stories.


This one is about the best bad food and starts with a picture of McDonald's fries.  Enough said.


(Don't forget these topics are being picked at random.  Hopefully that explains (some of) our erratic musings.)

You Need a Visual

12. What is the best, most delicious food to stuff your face with?

Well, obviously, I'd rather treat you to some drool-worthy culinary awesomeness. I mean, you can be hungry, feeling like you'd eat if someone drove you to the drive-through, and then on comes Giada or Rachael and you're salivating beside the television in three days' worn pajamas. You're "Tom Hanks on an island shouting for Wilson" hysterical, "Jessie Spano on diet pills" crazy, or "Katie Holmes breaking free of Scientology with a younger body double of Mr. Vanilla Sky" excited. Because there's FOOD. It's delicious. And you want it now.

Family Business

Like father...                                                           like son?

Back with Day Two and I must say it feels good to be writing again.  I've always been a bit of an exhibitionist as it pertains to my thoughts, so it is quite remarkable that I don't utilize facebook and twitter more frequently.  See I don't even know why I felt the need to share that musing.  I don't really know why we as people feel the need to share anything--everything in some cases.  Validation of our own existence, I suppose.  But as philosophy has taught me, we can't even verify that.  What does all this have to do with anything?  I don't know, but it's fun to ponder.


Now for something somewhat more purposeful.  As stated yesterday, feel free to weigh in on a particular question you might like answered by clicking here, or if you feel particularly ambitious please offer your own answer to a question.  We would be more than happy to post it if you, dear reader, are willing to share.  Part of the fun of this for us is the interaction, so the more we can encourage, the better.  Now, on to today's question.


39. Do you see yourself with children at some point in the future?


Yes.
































Just kidding, there's more to it than that.  Whoever wrote these questions is nosy.  I have been picturing my future children for way longer than what I would assume a typical man would.  Much to my own detriment in earlier days.  It isn't easy convincing a girl to start dating you when you have already pictured the whole relationship leading up to and through the wedding.  One might say I over-think things.  But let's be serious, who wouldn't want to help bring more people like me in to this world?  I mean check out that smile (above).  However, I can understand why I may have scared off a few ladies in my time with my deep commitment to commitment.


Being the planner that I am, the question I always ask myself when I think about having kids is whether or not I should adopt.  While there is something to be said for raising a child that is my own flesh and blood, I think it would be more selfless to adopt.  Our world is already ridiculously overpopulated and full of children who need good homes.  Even in our current living situation, Kieley and I could provide a strong support for those in need.  Don't worry, we're not planning anything just yet.


Still, I'm a selfish person and I want a child that I helped to create.  I worry for that child, though.  More than I worry for my family, friends, Kieley, and myself.  I worry for my friends kids, too.  I think every generation faces the same concern: what kind of world are we leaving behind for our children?  I honestly don't know.  What I do know is that whether my child is my blood or someone else's, I want the opportunity to raise at least one.  It would make me feel good to know that the next generation has someone a little bit like me living in it.  I hope he or she has a fair chance to improve the world in whatever small way he or she can.


And if he can grow a sweet beard before he is 10, well that would be something I'd like to see.

Where Do I Begin?

Glad to be back here in blogland after a long hiatus filled with working, moving, finding a new job, watching all of our movies, and waiting for the winter that never came. But alas, we're loving life in Chicago! In theme with this week's challenge:

23. What does your Mom do?

Well, what a question I randomly selected! My initial thought went to her job as a middle school teacher for the adolescent heathens of south Florida, a job she handles with such smart aplomb that putting my respect and admiration into words is nearly impossible. But in all honesty, that is her job and what my Mom actually does, what she is, remains a different thing entirely.

In no particular order...

My mom does this fantastic thing where she cracks herself up. I mean a side-splitting, roll over, fall on the floor laughter fit. Most of the time it takes everyone else a few minutes to catch up and the joke is (usually) worth it. Regardless, we all end up on the floor laughing.

My mom loves to recycle. She is a big crusader for planet Earth when it comes to plastics, glassware, and newspapers. She was so outraged by the lack of recycling at her school that she saved up about 250 water bottles and brought them home. And yes, she started crunching them one by one outside my bedroom window when I came home to visit, starting promptly at 8am on a Saturday, and sure it took hours and many a triumphant gleeful stomp after which she tossed them into the recycle bin, but the job got done. Deb doesn't do anything half-assed.

My mom makes the best meatloaf and macaroni salad, hands down. I can't duplicate it. No matter what I do. The same goes for chocolate chip cookies and a wide variety of homemade snack foods that have never seen a recipe page. Maybe she leaves out a secret ingredient, but let's be honest: it's probably love.

My mom gestures violently at idiot drivers. There's an escalating pattern to her rage, starting with a frustrated hand tap on the wheel. Then comes a raised hand and tongue tisk. Next we meet the infamous "double hand dance" where both wrists swivel about accompanied by a few choice words. I've never seen her get out of the car, but if both hands fly up, I know someone did something deservedly BAD.

My mom is gorgeous, naturally, and how she does it I don't know- more than saying her genes rock. Like most moms she hates picture taking and likes fussing in the kitchen and enjoys all that motherly behind the scenes work, but she should always be in pictures.

My mom can raise those Jersey roots in ten seconds flat. The balls of steel? The confident swagger? The sharp charm of a true champion? I've seen her raise a fight in a crowded Walmart over bad customer service and emerge victorious. Now THAT's something to claim with pride.

My mom roots for the Giants...and not just before they won this year's Superbowl (sorry, babe). She has always been their self-proclaimed biggest fan. Prior to game time , the lucky Giants socks come on, the shirt is worn, and she huddles in the living room "football chair." Then there's the inevitable chanting, cursing, hooting, hollering, and, in the event of a win, I do love the victory dance in front of the television which is an odd mix between the funky chicken and the electric slide. Most people learn to love football from their dad or a favorite uncle, but I learned to love it from my mom. And also to hate the Cowboys.

My mom buys in bulk. I think this comes from raising us in Florida where people have a "hurricane closet." My sister and I grew up dreading the day we might ever have to drink that condensed milk, but we were never left ill prepared when danger threatened. Batteries, canned vegetables, boxes of travel-sized cereal, juice packs, q-tips, shower goods, candles...my sister and I were the go-to girls for friends who liked playing store. If only I had better understood at that young age why I wasn't allowed to use Mom's checks to "pay" for sundries we all might have been spared a lot of frustration. I want her on my team during the apocalypse.

My mom has a soft spot which is really more of an all-encompassing black hole for shelter dogs. She spends her summers working tirelessly at Big Dog Ranch Rescue and does everything she can to get those dogs adopted by posting on Facebook and spreading the word to friends and strangers alike. Her passion would make anyone a believer, and if more people did the same we could put an end to kill shelters altogether. Check out the incredible BDRR here: http://www.bdrr.org

My mom has never shied away from awesomeness. She agreed to be one of the first cookie moms in my Brownie troupe, having no idea of what would become of our living room when the boxes arrived. She spent hours laboring over Halloween costumes when Kate and I were growing up; I didn't even know you could buy one from a store because the beautiful Disney princesses, the 60's Barbie, the Native American, the little elf I morphed into once a year all appeared from her own hands. She wrote notes with beautifully colored pictures on them for our lunches every day in elementary school and when I was too scared to go through the lunch line by myself on pizza day, she came to school and we had a date. She confronted my hellish seventh grade English teacher (who made Omarosa look like a saint) because I had a D in the subject when I always had an A (turns out this nightmare was purposefully failing kids). Mom never missed a play, conference, spelling bee, or ceremony (she'd be the one seated at the front clapping wildly) and the attention she paid to holidays would peak Martha Stewart's interest. And most of all she has always supported her children, no matter what, even if supporting them meant tough love for a better long term goal.

My Mom is a Mom, that is what she does; every minute of every day, loving unconditionally, and it will always be what I am proudest of her for.

New Digs

Welcome back!  Here's the short version of where we have been: job search, Thanksgiving, job search, Christmas, move, job search, job search, job search.  Okay, now that that is out of the way, here is the current two week challenge.


Each day we will answer a different question from this Website which seemingly has no purpose except to give us an easy new challenge to meet to get back in the swing of things.  Feel free to check out the questions here or by typing "good conversation starters" into Google.  We would gladly accept requests for questions to answer, so feel free to weigh in.


Thanks again for past and (hopefully) future interest in our musings.  And an extra special thanks goes out to those who held out hope that we would return and checked back with us in January and February.


And now, the first question...


46. How long have you been living at where you live now?

Randomly selected, and how apropos.  Well, my lady and I have been living in an "undisclosed" new location for just a little over two months now.  Certainly, most everyone that reads this will know where we are, if not to the exact latitude and longitude at least to the region.  However, the reason we can not say exactly where we are has to do with...well, let's just leave it at that until April 15, 2012.

It's been a wonderful experience thus far and I've never seen Kieley or Maddie (our dog) in better spirits.  Even without a full-time job yet, I'm encouraged by the decision to move.  I actually realized yesterday just how fun it is to see Kieley around true winter weather--or at least as true of a winter that has been offered to us this year in *censored, --*.

It's fun to watch her discover things about the area that I have known about my entire life.  For me it has been a rediscovery of not only the season, but also the place in this world that I have always thought of as home.  I'm not great about looking at the world through other people's eyes, but the glimpses that I have seen through Kieley's have been fascinating.  I can't remember the last time I thought about the way snow falls and moves differently across a frozen wood plank, or how bizarre it actually is to have my snot freeze in my nose.

Anyway, just a little over two months is how long we have been living here.

Riot On

Halloween Riot; Madison, Wisconsin; 2003

Read this first.

As my friend Machen said, this is all very sad and ridiculous.  I don't want to get in to how I feel about the whole Joe Paterno situation, suffice it to say I think anyone who thinks he has done enough just by telling on someone deserves whatever happens to them when the other shoe drops.  Ire-inducing as that whole mess is, at least it makes some kind of sense.

What doesn't make sense to me is a student body's desire to riot.  Are students jealous that their parents and grandparents got to take part in protests that were actually purposeful back in the '60s?  Imagine if at the end of the Penn State riots if the Board of Trustees came out and said to the mob "you guys have really gotten our attention.  You have made a valid point and expressed yourselves in a productive, mature way.  We are going to rehire Joe Paterno as the head coach of the football team."

After all that is what rioting is about, right?  Using violence to get what we want or to imply or dissatisfaction with the way things are.  Riots provoke change, in theory.  Perhaps a better lens through which to view rioting is that it is senseless aggression and hatefulness for its own sake.  College was/is a hard time in life.  Teenagers and early twenty-somethings are emotional lot prone to flights of whimsy and hysteria.  Ideas are put in to action before they are processed as good, bad, or neutral.  It's easy to see where the firing of lovable grandfather type would ignite negative feelings in the minds of the Penn State student body.  As those students learn how to integrate in to the world, an action like that could easily be construed as a reason to believe the world does not care about their opinions.  It could even be seen as a reason to distrust the world they are expected to become a part of.

Perhaps some of that is too grandiose, but if I don't allow myself to look at it that way it just makes my heart hurt.  Because the alternative is that people are by nature maniacal, cruel, and irrational; and that just makes me sad for those rioting and those of us who have to witness the rioting.  I'd rather believe that the Penn State student body was just being a bunch of kids who didn't know any better.  Not that that makes me feel a lot better.

It all takes me back to my college days and the yearly Halloween riots that would take place in Madison.  Off the top of my head, I believe the first riot started because some girls on a balcony wouldn't show their breasts after they implied that they would.  Rioting because you didn't get to see naked boobs, or rioting because you feel your coach who knew of sexual abuse going on in his program was wrongly fired, which reason is better?

That first Halloween riot would be pathetic in its own right, but the fact that it sparked a yearly "tradition" is depressing.  They got worse every year I was in college until the city finally developed a proper gameplan that was rather fascist in its execution.  But I would rather feel safe celebrating a goofy holiday than feel like I need to tell every out of towner I see to not trash Jamba Juice this year.  My understanding is that things have died down in Madison over the years and are back to "normal"--whatever that means now.  

To me it is tragic things got away from the carefree way they used to be in the first place.  Life is hard enough without riots.

Cute But Kind of Evil

I remember the thrill of my first horror movie at the age of seven. My babysitter let me stay up late to watch Buffy the Vampire Slayer on TV. For a sheltered kid, I had captured the trifecta of awesomeness: no parental guidance, movie I shouldn't be watching, and reveling in the glory of life after 8pm. But as I sat huddled on the couch witnessing hapless teenagers get the life drained out of them, I encountered my first true feeling of terror. This was worse than when Mom took my Barbies away in kindergarten or having to eat tuna casserole for dinner. I'd thus far grown up watching Sesame Street, Care Bears, My Little Pony, and Full House. Power Rangers was considered a little too violent and Rugrats sounded like a show with bad kids. The second I saw that vampire laying across clueless Kristy Swanson's pillows, I left my innocence behind.

It's the same feeling you experience when finding out Santa isn't giving Mickey special dog biscuits to keep him from barking against a velvet-clad intruder bearing toys and craving cookies. You lose that sense of assurance you'd possessed as a wide-eyed kid. Everything isn't always as it seems. At some point, I might have had to stake a vamp.

Terrible a movie as it was (Donald Sutherland WHHHHY?) I refused horror flicks until high school when "The Ring" rolled around and everyone thought it would be a fun Friday night to watch Samara crab-walk her way to death-dealing destruction...from a well...flickering across the television screen of her poor victims. I remembered again why I'd abstained from this genre for so long. My brain just wouldn't let it go. I couldn't stop thinking about how creepy it was and what if it really happened and if that TV went snowy on me I would lose my *&%$. Give me a good thriller or a mystery, now that's legit fun. But coupled with a recent viewing of "The Shining," "The Ring" only compacted an intense desire to leave frightening films in the hands of my better-equipped friends. This would also explain the equally frightening collections of rom coms which until very recently counted "The Wedding Planner" among its numbers.

So I missed watching "A Nightmare on Elm Street" and "Friday the 13th" until my twenties. "Saw" will never be on my Christmas list. I can't picture turning to John and saying, "You know, honey, I could really go for a double feature of "The Grudge" and "The Omen"...want to grab some popcorn?" No matter how many times my sister tells me to watch "The Amityville Horror" it won't happen. I am just not built to withstand those kinds of movies.

What spurred this walk down memory lane was part of the game John and I are playing: to watch all of our combined DVD's before being allowed to purchase more. And since I'd never had the pleasure of meeting Freddy Kreuger, watching all of John's Elm Street gems was part of the deal. I was curious, not psyched. I knew very well that Freddy was the terror of my elementary school friends' slumber parties. But I also approached it knowing the bulk of this series were made before the true dawn of CGI. So we began a proper horror education.

Here is what I learned:

1. The first one was scary but dated. I jumped, I yelped, I was delightfully engrossed. Also? Call Stacy and Clinton because Freddy is screaming for a new wardrobe. He clearly needs better friends...which he would have if he didn't kill them while they slept. Rude.

2. The second was unnecessarily "adult-teen" homoerotic and boring. That whole scene in the shower? Where's Benson and Stabler when you need them? I believe it does win the award for most violent bird death since "The Birds" though, and that's something.

3. The third was better, so much better, and saw the return of Nancy. She took some acting lessons, got seriously educated, but unfortunately got bigger hair. I enjoyed the cast of teens and the overall lack of actual Freddy screen time even though he offed our original heroine in a badly wall-papered dream room.

4. Blargh. I fell asleep. I didn't like any of the characters. Mercifully, Freddy performed his kindest deed yet by slaying Patricia Arquette's replacement in the first 30 minutes. Water beds are also a lot more dangerous than I originally thought.

5. Yes! Alice is cooler, blonde, and dating Dan the Stud. Her life is awesome. But as the first storied scene of all her buddies gathered for a grad photo splashes across the screen I groan. "Clearly the girl with a Momager is going to die first, shortly followed by the stoned hipster..." Alice lives and so does her unborn child, but Dan the Stud doesn't make Krueger's cut. Freddy is terribly scared of Mother Mary Helena who he affectionately calls "bitch" instead of "Mom." I'm guessing she didn't hand out hugs and smile rainbows during much of his childhood. Column? Win.

6. I don't like this. They moved the story from Cali to O-Hi-O and we are introduced to our purported hero in a Wizard of Oz like crashdown. His name escapes me, as does any logic of the story. I woke up in time to see Roseanne Barr and Tom Arnold making a hilarious cameo before I fell back asleep. We'll be finishing this up tomorrow. Verdict? Undecided.

"The Nightmare" series is admittedly not that scary...not in the sense of other horror fare gracing our movie screens in this age of advanced computer animation and children reared on information overload. But it's a step in the right direction as far as my horror-tolerance is concerned. John and I realized one of the most interesting things a franchise could do would be to make a movie or show where the townsfolk legitimately tried to figure out why so many teenagers kept dying in weird, gruesome, and often bizarre ways (I'm looking at you Elm Street, Buffy, Supernatural, and even General Hospital). For now, though, a thank you to Freddy Kreuger. I bet that's the first time anyone has ever put that phrase your way.

Strangers with Candy

Have a safe and happy Halloween

It's difficult to avoid falling in to the habit of referring to myself as "dad" when it comes to our dog, Maddie.  I'm not sure what doing so satisfies in me, or anyone, psychologically but I do know if feels natural to do.  Of course I never really wanted any of this being a dog person but that too came naturally.

I was walking Maddie the other day when we crossed paths with an over-exuberant dog enthusiast, and stranger.  After coming at the poor dog way too familiarly for a new person in her world, the woman asked if she could give Maddie a cookie.  I hesitantly said "yes" thinking on why it would be considered rude to deny a stranger the opportunity to feed my dog while it would be totally within reason to deny that same stranger the chance to feed my child.  Why should the trust change?

Now I don't think this woman had any harmful intent, but these are the irrational things we start to believe as we grow to love someone and feel the need to protect them.  I watched intently as the woman reached in to her bag full of random papers and objects that had no discernible association with one another.  In there along with everything else were, not surprisingly, dog treats.  Who knows why she carried dog treats in her backpack.

My worried suspicion was that she lugged them around so that when she saw a dog she could seize the opportunity to feed it one of her arsenic-laced treats and rid the world of another nuisance.  As she held the treat out to Maddie my mind flashed to images from a movie I can't remember the name of (bonus points if someone reading can help me out with this) where a man is asked to show someone his papers and as he reaches to do so he conceals a sharp object under the papers.  The man then stabs the other man in the neck.

Thankfully, Maddie did not take the treat and thus spared me from picturing any more gruesome, illogical imaginings on how the whole situation would play out.  In spite of all this accusatory, distrustful thinking about this woman I still felt bad that Maddie did not take the treat--highly unusual behavior for her.  Maddie did not take the treat when I tried to give it to her.  In fact, she did not even take the treat when we were out of sight from the woman.

My little girl knows not to take candy from strangers and I could not be a prouder papa.


What I've Learned
October 9th: The Cowboys were the first NFL team to racially integrate.
October 10th: The LA Rams were truly the first NFL team to racially integrate.
October 11th: Steven Spielberg was to direct Cape Fear while Martin Scorsese directed Schindler's List.
October 12th: Nothing that I can remember.
October 13th: You can't donate blood when you have a cold.
October 14th: A Glasgow Grin is something Scottish criminals do that leaves their victims with scars like the Joker's from The Dark Knight.
October 15th: Britain's current Queen Elizabeth is not . 22nd:a direct descendant of Queen Elizabeth I.
October 16th: The St Louis Cardinals farm system is located in Florida (explained to me by my six-year-old nephew).
Oct. 17th: The circle by our house is called Pinehurst Circle, not Chevy Chase Circle nor Connecticut Circle.
Oct. 18th: Stephen King has a new book coming out.
Oct. 19th: 72% of black children are born to unwed mothers compared to 29% of whites children.
Oct. 20th: The food with the highest ANDI score is kale.
Oct. 21th: Muamar Gaddafi was killed by Libyan rebels.
Oct. 22nd: At the age of 25 Scott Hall killed a man when he was a bouncer in 1983.

Oct. 23rd: A 2001 survey suggested that 83% of pet owners refer to themselves as "mommy" or "daddy"

Razor's Edge

Scott Hall, or Razor Ramon as many wrestling fans know him, was always one of my favorite characters.  He was supposedly playing a Scarface knockoff.  Maybe it's my hatred for that movie, but I don't see it that way.  Apparently the persona was supposed to be Cuban, but Ramon just seemed cool.  Nationality was irrelevant as Ramon was "oozing machismo" as the announcers would say.  (I can still hear my dad mimicking that line.)

Scott Hall is still cool as a 53-year-old man who is in a very real life and death battle with alcoholism and drug addiction.  But the E:60 video expose I watched about Hall seems to implicitly suggest that Hall's addiction to wrestling is just as detrimental to his health.  I can understand that completely, I am only a fan and I can't quit the stuff myself.  Imagine what it is like to be on the other side.

Wrestling falls under a lot of scrutiny for the early deaths seen in the business and the fact that there doesn't seem to be a very good system in place to take care of these men and women after they retire.  I don't disagree entirely, but I have some serious issues with the way football players are cast off once they've retired. (More on that someday, perhaps.)  As I get older I see a big problem with wrestling--and the major difference between it and other performance-based professions--is that wrestlers are playing a character but they have to be that character in perpetuity.  There is never a down time for a wrestler and the more real they can be in the ring as a character, not an athlete (though wrestlers are ridiculously underrated or entirely unrecognized as real athletes), the better.

So wrestlers have to pretend all the time and that must be confusing.  Talking about it confuses me.  Thus, an intelligent, insightful man such as Scott Hall isn't sure if he is performing or not.  Is his character now a  man who can't quit the business or the excesses in which the business invites him to partake?  As long as people are still willing to pay to see him (and do exposes on him), I guess it probably is.  He knows he is genuinely dying from the choices he is making, but that's who he has been for a long time.  Is that a character, or is that the person he actually is?

I don't know, but I'm scared for him.  Both as a lover of wrestling and a fan of Razor Ramon as well as someone who does not want to watch Scott Hall, the human being, suffer and hurt those who love him.


What I've Learned
October 9th: The Cowboys were the first NFL team to racially integrate.
October 10th: The LA Rams were truly the first NFL team to racially integrate.
October 11th: Steven Spielberg was to direct Cape Fear while Martin Scorsese directed Schindler's List.
October 12th: Nothing that I can remember.
October 13th: You can't donate blood when you have a cold.
October 14th: A Glasgow Grin is something Scottish criminals do that leaves their victims with scars like the Joker's from The Dark Knight.
October 15th: Britain's current Queen Elizabeth is not . 22nd:a direct descendant of Queen Elizabeth I.
October 16th: The St Louis Cardinals farm system is located in Florida (explained to me by my six-year-old nephew).
Oct. 17th: The circle by our house is called Pinehurst Circle, not Chevy Chase Circle nor Connecticut Circle.
Oct. 18th: Stephen King has a new book coming out.
Oct. 19th: 72% of black children are born to unwed mothers compared to 29% of whites children.
Oct. 20th: The food with the highest ANDI score is kale.
Oct. 21th: Muamar Gaddafi was killed by Libyan rebels.
Oct. 22nd: At the age of 25 Scott Hall killed a man when he was a bouncer in 1983.   

Schindler's Fear

I actually didn't learn anything of note yesterday.  At least nothing comes to mind.  Kieley will be the first to tell you how rare this is as I basically never stop reading and I am disseminating some nugget of information probably every fifth sentence or so.  Bless her heart, she indulges me through it all, even when I'm reading an article about "South Park" while she's trying to seduce me.  But I digress.

The point is I am always trying to enhance my knowledge by reading everything I can get my hands on.  Thus, for me to go a day without learning something new, even if it is trivial, is a rarity in my world.  That said, I didn't come here to talk about what I didn't learn yesterday.  Instead, I'm here to talk about what I learned on Tuesday.

Apparently, the remake of Cape Fear was supposed to be directed by Steven Spielberg while Schindler's List would have been helmed by Martin Scorsese.  I found this shocking as Schindler's List is such a definitive film for Spielberg in a career full of definitive films.  The movie has always been presented as Spielberg's labor of love, so it seems weird that he wasn't originally attached to it.  Meanwhile, Cape Fear is so Scorsese it's overwhelming.  I'm not going to go down that road right now, though.  We'll save my disdain for Marty for another time.

However, I will leave you with this thought: what would the "blooper reel" from Schindler's List look like?  Has there ever been a film with a more somber tone?  Did anyone even tell a joke on set?  Or smile?  Something to think about.

What I've Learned this week
October 9th: The Cowboys were the first NFL team to racially integrate.
October 10th: The LA Rams were truly the first NFL team to racially integrate.
October 11th: Steven Spielberg was to direct Cape Fear while Martin Scorsese directed Schindler's List.
October 12th: Nothing that I can remember.
October 13th: You can't donate blood when you have a cold.       

I Still Hate the Cowboys

DC during football season is a place of mixed emotions.  The season starts and the Redskins fluke in to some wins and it looks like they can make the playoffs and the city is full of hope.  Then they drop eight straight in the middle of the season and everyone seems so deflated they refuse to even remotely embrace the perennial contenders, and fairly local, Baltimore Ravens.  The Philadelphia Eagles would be a reasonable team to root for as they too are relatively local.  But what I find most troubling about football season in DC is the abundance of Dallas Cowboys fans.

As a boy who was raised to believe the Redskins going 2-0 against the Cowboys could be deemed a perfect season, I saw it surprising to see so many star-clad supporters cheering the Redskins' most hated rivals.  Yesterday, I asked my co-worker why it was so.  My guess was that one is likely to find a number of contrarians who root for their home team's rival.  But my coworker's answer surprised me.  Apparently, he had been told that the Cowboys were the first team to racially integrate.  If that were true, I could finally support them being referred to as "America's Team."

However, being the good journalist I was trained to be, I checked the facts.  What I discovered was far more interesting, allows me to still hate the Cowboys, and leaves me with my initial question still unanswered.  It seems the first team to integrate was actually the Los Angeles (now St. Louis) Rams.  The story is pretty fascinating, so I will let it speak for itself:

In 1939, UCLA had, arguably until as late as 1962, one of the greatest collegiate football players in history, Kenny Washington,^[5] a senior.^[6] Washington, an African American,^[7] was very popular,^[8][9]and his team had garnered national attention in the print media.^[10] After he played in the College All-Star game in August 1940, George Halas asked him not to return to Los Angeles immediately because Halas wanted to sign him to a contract with the Chicago Bears. After a week or so, Washington returned to Los Angeles without an NFL contract.^{[11][12][13][14]} Washington spent the majority of the early 1940s in the Pacific Coast League with the Hollywood Bears, even during World War II, during which he managed to avoid military service, thanks in part to a timely injury that forced him to miss the 1942 season but likely rendered him ineligible for service. Washington, after his injuries were healed, was a rarity in that he was a healthy, available athlete during a time when the NFL was resorting to using partially handicapped players ineligible for service, but received no interest from any NFL teams at the time. In 1946, after the Rams had received approval to move to Los Angeles, members of the African American print media made the Los Angeles Coliseum commission aware the NFL did not have any African American players^[15] and reminded the commission the Coliseum was supported with public funds. Therefore, its commission had to abide by an 1896 Supreme Court decision, Plessy v. Ferguson, by not leasing the stadium to a segregated team.^[16] Also, they specifically suggested the Rams should give Washington a tryout. The commission advised the Rams that they would have to integrate the team with at least one African American in order to lease the Coliseum, and the Rams agreed to this condition.^{[11][16][17][18]} Subsequently, the Rams signed Washington on March 21, 1946,^[19][20][21] and racial segregation in the NFL was completely ended. The signing of Washington caused "all hell to break loose" among the owners of the NFL franchises.^[22] The Rams added a second black player, Woody Strode, on May 7, 1946, giving them two black players going into the 1946 season.

Credit to Wikipedia which is not always the most trustworthy Website but is typically accurate as it pertains to sports history.  Not only was this fact checking exercise informative, it also allows me to maintain my unfounded hatred of the Dallas Cowboys.

*Other semi-related things I learned:  

     1. The halfback Peyton Hillis of the Cleveland Browns is currently the only white starting running back in the NFL.

     2. The Baltimore (now Indianapolis Colts) were the first NFL team to have cheerleaders beginning in 1954.

John Pricelesworth III

I work as a Whole Foods buyer (as most readers probably know).  Recently, the most interesting part of my day has become seeing what one of the vendors will put as my last name on the invoice.  At first, I thought it was  cute, but after thinking about it I find it kind of offensive.  After all, one's name is a big part of one's identity and it shouldn't be handled just any old way.

However, much as it sort of bothers me, I don't want to say anything lest I give whoever is altering my name the response the are looking for.  It's hard to restrain myself though, I am so curious to find out what would compel someone to tamper with the name of a person (a business partner, no less) they have never met.

If I ever do find out who's doing it I do want to thank them for one thing: giving me an awesome fancy name to use when I become one of the hoi polloi: John Pricelesworth III.

The Threat Level Is "EXTREME"

Yes, the title of this blog is actually an article snippet from a reputable weather source.

I'm going to rage here, and I hope you can tolerate/forgive my furious wrath at the various weather reports flooding television and internet alike as Irene churns its way north.

1) Jim Cantore is an idiot. I grew up in Florida where watching hurricane tracks was a way of life. I knew all about pressure fluctuations, wind speed, flood variations, feeder bands, eye walls, and how to nail up a piece of plywood by the time I was eight. I don't need to see an over-zealous storm worshiper clinging to a telephone pole explaining how the massive flying debris field swirling behind him could kill you if you go outside. Thank you, Captain Obvious, for your grab bag of freak-out reports meant to further alarm an already frantic populace.

2) I understand the need to raise awareness about a storm's seriousness, but every time a reporter reaches for (or clicks on) their thesaurus to find a better word to describe "danger" and its derivatives (i.e. catastrophic, vengeful, extreme, maniacal, perilous, menacing, etc) they succeed in sensationalizing their story, but in turn cause an upsurge in panic. As Linda stands in line at Costco surrounded by a horde of wide-eyed stricken shoppers toting supplies for the apocalypse, she turns to her nearest counterpart and whispers, "Did you hear what they're calling this storm? A decimating widespread threat!" And like a game of grade school telephone, Nearest Counterpart relays to her friend that "This storm is the most destructive hurricane we could ever see here" and so on. I don't mean to make light of a legitimately serious situation, but I wish it could be handled in a way that both stressed the seriousness without causing a stampede at food and hardware stores.

3) The wind-blown, rain-soaked palm tree graphic of doom splashed across the storm page for weather.com. How about a solid blue backdrop which draws attention to the map and other important information without me having to further visualize what the streets will look like this weekend?

I am jaded about hurricanes growing up in Florida. I take them very seriously and stalk the same reports which drive me crazy, though I don't understand the need to overly-dramatize an already dangerous situation. It is what it is: a terrible awful storm which everyone needs to respect and prepare for. Let's stick to the facts, report what's necessary, and keep people informed. Bottom line. People perceive danger pretty easily. If given what they need to react, all of the zeal could easily be disposed of.

Please be safe, everyone, and take care.