REDUX 1: Shaken Not Stirred

Because I am twisted, over the next 5 days I am going to post the 5 lowest viewed blogs from my 2012 blogs.  (I'm throwing out the YouTubes and the NFL stuff, but all the usual parentheses posts are here.) Chances are there’s at least a few you never saw the first time around. Some for the first time WITH pictures!

Originally Posted 1/28/2012

It seems so easy...  

You throw it out there, make a connection, a little squeeze, a little up and down action...

Dogs do it.

That's right, I'm talking about shaking hands.  It's too easy, right?

A good handshake is harder than it seems.

I know a guy, we'll call him Bear, who seriously shakes hands.  I mean he takes it very seriously. I've had to re-shake because we've done it in a way that isn't up to his high standards.

You see most people extend their arm prior to the handshake, which I am sure is the "spirit" of the handshake. I won't debate or bore you with the origins of the handshake, but stories say that it was a method to show that you weren't holding a weapon.

By extending your arm, and I've seen people even lean forward a bit, you lose the ability to "attack" the handshake. You leave yourself open to the whims of the person you will shake with. They could take any number of lesser handshake styles leaving you with no choice but to accept it:

1. The Finger Squeezer - No intention to shake your hand, this handshake grabs your fingers and can be painful if a forceful squeeze is employed. 

2. Limping Along - this is almost opposite of the first one.  In this variation, the other person gives only his/her fingers with a slightly bent wrist.

3. Hand Slap - no shake at all, but a side five. Not horrible, but no connection.

Now, the Bear method involves a method I like to call "Cocked and Locked." When Bear is planning to shake your hand, there is "the look". Eyes are slightly wider, there is a definite smile (mainly because he knows what's coming.)

The approach is measured, he's a tall dude and could make up the distance between you and he so quickly that it it could be a hug instead of a handshake, and he'd be ok with that too!

The best part of the whole deal is the body position; left arm out a bit to the side with a "you could shake or you could hug, but this wingspan only gets bigger and you won't escape" vibe. Almost like a gun fighter, the right arm is high and tight to his body, hand already in pre-shake position with nothing all flim-flam... coiled... ready to strike out and attack the shake.

As the distance closes, you ready for the shake.

 

Then it begins, the right arm shoots out... web attacking web...it's like a hand slap in its suddenness, yet it holds. It is a healthy grip...no pumping...no wild shaking. It is solid and strong, yet because the grip is deep, like a baseball into the web of a glove, there is no pain.

Few words describe the sensation, the one I would use is "genuine."

Do you have a good handshake or could it use some work?

REDUX 2: When the Dead Sea Had a Pulse...

Because I am twisted, over the next 5 days I am going to post the 5 lowest viewed blogs from my 2012 blogs.  (I'm throwing out the YouTubes and the NFL stuff, but all the usual parentheses posts are here.) Chances are there’s at least a few you never saw the first time around. Some for the first time WITH pictures!

Originally Posted 1/20/2012

So, today is my birthday. 

Bring on the mockery. 

46.

Yes, as part of the modern stone age family, I had a pet dinosaur. (Gino, he was an Italian Pepperonasaraus)

Yes, I was cold before I figured out fire.

Even back then, I thought the Mayans were pretentious to pick an end of the world date.

I don't plan to live forever, I've seen how that worked out for Michael Jackson, so if my math is correct, I'm on the other side of life and it feels exceedingly weird actually writing that. I have begun craving Geritol, but still can't eat brussel sprouts. 

46 is like 19. (only older) It's not that noteworthy. It's not epic. It's no turning point.

Like then, I'm modifying my license to make myself older, this time for the AARP card and 30% senior discount on coffee at IHop. (Steve Jobs favorite restaurant)

Yesterday, I fell and couldn't get up.  I needed the life alert button but instead I lay there reaching for the phone that was just out of my reach. I knew I should have ordered the Rascal scooter.

Things I remember fondly:

- "A penny for your thoughts, a nickel for a kiss, and a dime if you tell me that you love me." - Penny is the girl on Big Bang Theory and she appears to kiss a lot of people, but otherwise pennies are an annoyance that people are actually throwing in the trash.  You can get anyone's two cents for much less than that and believe me it is often worth less. This is an old saying and I imagine my grandchildren will eventually ask what a penny was.

- my hair - I don't really miss it that much since I shaved it all off.  It takes my barber a long ime to cut that special "skin yamulka" into my hair along with the high widows peak.

- Saturday morning cartoons - oh, sure, they're still on and my kids still watch them, but they aren't the same. For those of us who grew up prior to cable and the cartoon network, where there is always some cartoon on, Saturday morning was the time when the parents slept in and we got to watch some zany kid madness.

- Hip Hop you could understand..nuff said.

- two steps - at least that's hopefully the only steps I've lost.  Being one of the fastest kids on the block and having only lost 4 foot races in my life (Bill S, Mike A, Mike S, Rob F) I would love to have those legs back for a few days and the lungs to make them go a long way.

Fortunately...

Age Increases...

Immaturity stays the same.

Hallelujah!

REDUX 3: Dadtator in the Momunism

Because I am twisted, over the next 5 days I am going to post the 5 lowest viewed blogs from my 2012 blogs.  (I'm throwing out the YouTubes and the NFL stuff, but all the usual parentheses posts are here.) Chances are there’s at least a few you never saw the first time around. Some for the first time WITH pictures!

Originally Posted 1-14-2012

Sometimes I feel like the King of England, all title, zero power.

Like Genie said in Aladdin (yes, I did just quote a Disney movie, but it was a Robin Williams character so there) "phenominal cosmic power...itty bitty living space" only no phenomenal OR cosmic power.

(Yes, Prince Charles has as much power now as he ever has or ever will)

So, I love the ladies, don't get me wrong.  Blogher, Top Mommy Blogs, and other woman oriented blogging communities leave me feeling a little testosteronie (which is the real San Francisco treat).

Some of my favorite ladies of the modern written word are counted as members of these groups.  Forget making me want to be a better man, I want to be an honorary woman for the day just to get into the echelons that some of these ladies' craft have taken them. I could list my favorites, but frankly you see my reading list, so do the work, you won't be disappointed.

I don't blog because I'm a dad.  I don't blog because I'm a dude. I don't blog because I don't get enough time in front of the computer. I'm fairly healthy so I am no draw to a community of a like-minded sick people. (that doesn't mean you people aren't sick and twisted) I'd like to see a serious blog community for men.

These BlogHim guys don't seem to lend credibility to the community.

Now talk about a cool logo and name, Men with Pens could have been an awesome group, unfortunately it is a company that teaches men to blog for business, or something like that.

Intellectual Reader: Are you carving out your own niche in the blogging world?
Mynd: Possibly, but only like carving the soap that will eventually get used in the shower. I'm not writing Mount Rushmore here, folks.
IR: Do you have aspirations for writing a novel?
Mynd: Yes.
IR: Have you started said novel?
Mynd: Yes.
IR: What are the chances of that book being published and becoming a best seller and my being able to pick it up on Amazon.
Mynd: Picture me, slam dunking in the WNBA...got it? The novel's chances are a bit lower than that. And let's face it, Amazon... even the bookstores are named for women.

So I've been designated as the "Dadtator" of my house and other than sounding like some sort of glorified couch spud, it's a fairly inglorious title. I am chief potatentate at my house, provided all my decisions have come from or are approved by Mrs. Mynd.  She has been designated as the Momunist in our house. When I need to be deposed or overthrown, she'll be in charge of that. I have the "plastic steering wheel" that has no real ability to turn the car.

Being a man, who blogs, in a house where my team has lost to her team, in a world where the women (bloggers) are organized...it's just hard being me.

REDUX 4: God Doesn't Love Squirrels!

Because I am twisted, over the next 5 days I am going to post the 5 lowest viewed blogs from my 2012 blogs.  (I'm throwing out the YouTubes and the NFL stuff, but all the usual parentheses posts are here.) Chances are there’s at least a few you never saw the first time around. Some for the first time WITH pictures!

Originally posted 1/17/2012.

I can sense that all you ADD infected people came for squirrels and I plan to give 'em to ya, don't worry.  Unfortunately, the atheists have already surfed to the next Facebook page sharing of the ridiculous "Do you guys know how to post videos on Facebook?" dude.  They will surely miss out.

So I've got a fairly ridiculous premise working in my title, yeah? I know your thinker isn't always attuned to my inner monologue, so let me hit you with the verse.


Break it down, Matthew:

Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? (Matthew 6:26 NIV)

What are you saying?  Alfred Hitchcock's million minion march, err flight doesn't have to worry about feeding themselves tomorrow? Clearly that gave them time to conspire to make a spooky movie, but why so mad?  If anyone should be mad, it should be the squirrels... keepers of many nuts in as many stockpiles as possible.


Matthew breaks it down further:

 "Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. (Matthew 6:19 NIV)

Though I enjoy the twisting and writhing of some when I bring up the "squirrel defense" when the "sparrow" card is played, I know that these verses talk about God's providence. 

In fact, these are some of my favorite verses even if you don't look at them in a biblical perspective:

"Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and vermin do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. (Matthew 6:19-21 NIV)

Material things can only go so far and can be taken away from you. The ending is the key, your heart follows your treasure, so be careful what you treasure.

What is it that you treasure?

REDUX 5: Of M(Ice Cream) Men and Clean Desks

Because I am twisted, over the next 5 days I am going to post the 5 lowest viewed blogs from my 2012 blogs. (I'm throwing out the YouTubes and the NFL stuff, but all the usual parentheses posts are here.) Chances are there’s at least a few you never saw the first time around. Some for the first time WITH pictures!

Originally from January 12, 2012.

January 9th was "National Clean Off Your Desk Day" and I failed to fail to accomplish it, all while failing. No joke y'all, but it didn't get as bad as that:
<<===

Our office decided a week ago to play musical chairs, well musical offices. It sounds cheerful and magical and it should sound something like the ice cream man when he played the music on your street. Except that the ice cream man plays music that is now interrupted by a snippy "HELLO?" that is pretentious in its curiosity of how you could be ignoring ice cream. But, let me corral that cat and get back to my point. I was almost the last person to move (thankfully I was able to sit down).

So we shifted offices and within them some desks, so when I departed on Friday, I had packed some stuff from my desk... in essence I had "cleaned off my desk" yet hardly in the spirit of a National Holiday.

Not My NEW Desk

When I arrived on Monday (why I even had to work on the holiday I don't know) to find my new office with my new desk and a pile of my belongings upon it. As I still had to clean off and move a bookshelf, I greedily used the new desk in my old office as a pile zone to empty the bookshelf. Once the bookshelf was moved, I removed the piles of things on the desk in my old office and placed them on my new desk in my new office. In the process, I cleaned off the new desk in my old office and once again had cleaned off a desk, much more in the spirit of a National Holiday, but not actually MY desk.

Not My NEW Desk, not really my old desk either...

Having vacated my old office and created a nest of belongings in my new office, I proceeded to once again clean off a fuzzin' desk! Bookshelf was restocked with books and pictures and other odds and ends. Other pictures were hung on the wall. Desk drawers were filled with office supplies, files and of course, snack foods.

The desk was immaculate(ly the same with the same stuff that was on its predecessor. Fail)

Same Desk, Same Stuff... fail?

Now, while the wording of this all important National Holiday is "...Desk..." I truly have a pet peeve with a cluttered desktop. Nothing blows an IT guy's gasket like working a trouble ticket for a user whose computer is "slow" only to find something that looks like this:

Speaking of Ice Cream Man Music (though that was like 7 paragraphs and 5 images ago) has anyone seen the scene (atypically alliteration) in Mr. 3000 with Bernie Mac where 2 grown men discuss what the ice cream man music should be, complete with their own renditions of same? Very Funny!

Apocalypse Remorse

If you bought Simple Dude's book, as I suggested here, or even if you didn't you may find yourself on December 22nd with the worse kind of remorse possible. Far worse than its doe-eyed little sister "Buyers' Remorse," and worse even than "What Happens in Vegas Remorse," this is the big bad Apocalypse Remorse.

So you planned on NOT being here reading this blog today?

Well, neither did I. (not really, but it makes good copy) I decided to party like it was 1999 all day on the 21st and let the chips fall where they may. As was the case in 1999, nothing happened and the hangover following that minor computer date apocalypse that did not come to fruition was epic.

There were so many bad decisions that could be made with the peril of the world hanging in the balance, I decided to help you out by making as many as I could.

Bad decision number 1, cutting my hair to look like Michael Stipe, noteworthy front-man for the band REM. I felt that the authenticity I would gather while singing "It's the End of the World as We Know It" was well worth the possible ridicule. I knew the chicks would dig it.

 




Bad decision number 2, all that sex. Now, apocalypse sex is great mind you, a certain freedom and franticness combine to make it absolutely mind blowing. However... Being that it is Saturday, I don't believe I will be allowed in the supermarket (cleanup on aisle 10...and aisle 3)...or the daycare (the daycare lady is hot)...or the senior center...umm, or the church ever again. Macy's was a bit peeved at the view on the elevator, I didn't realize that it was only 2 floors and even I'm not that fast. I'm sure you don't need pictures to draw your conclusions, suffice it to say...it was epic, but I may be moving soon.

 

Need I Say Any More?

I'm sure the boss will appreciate the humor of bad decision number 3... I was just trying to protect company secrets from the zombies by formatting the server. Really. Hollywood gets everything wrong and they want you to think Vampires are shiny, can see themselves in the mirror, don't talk like Bela Legosi, and they hang out in the sunlight. Well, they also want you to think that zombies are all about eating your flesh. I'm here to tell you that zombies are really information peddlers and by scaring people out of leaving buildings (without logging off) they have easy access to all the data they need.

 

I guess with bad decision number 4, my retirement was pushed a bit. I pulled the entirety of my savings and 401K to throw myself an awesome party. You can't imagine how many illicit drugs you can purchase with a couple grand. No, I didn't share. I'm surprised I was able to post this. I found this rare drug. It comes in a pixie stix wrapper, tastes like pixie stix, but the side effects are EPIC! I did so many hits of the stuff that I was talking fast, bouncing off the walls, and then sleeping. After each cycle, I would do it all again. The guy I bought it from swore that it was the real stuff and I scored a lot of it.

Selling my house for cash was probably part of bad decision 4, but it really deserves its to be number 5. Sure the cash contributed wonderfully to my party fund but the new owner is going to be pissed at the telephone ringing from all my creditors who won't get paid.

 

I'm too kind. Bad decision number 6 was the one where I gave it all away. Leading up to the 21st, I stopped doing laundry. I wore every article of clothing I own. Then I bagged it all up and took it to the homeless shelter. Sure some of it was probably unsavory smelling but obviously that's the way homeless men like it, so by pre-soiling them I was doing them a favor, right?

So what WAS I wearing, if I gave it all away? Bad decision number 7 of course, where I became a Super Hero! Here are a few things I learned from that experience: 1. Wonder Woman is not an appropriate Super Hero to emulate if you're a guy and want to be taken seriously. 2. The lanyard of truth doesn't work for anything but to really annoy dangerous people. 3. The bracelets are NOT bulletproof. Some things you learn the hard way.

 

 

 

I could go on with my decisions of doom, but as you can see:

• I have to heal up,
• Find a place to live,
• Find a job,
• Buy some clothes in a store that doesn't recognize me,
• Rebuild my fortune,
• Pay off my creditors,
• Apologize to...well...everyone.

Good news, I heard the homeless shelter has beds AND bags of really fly clothes.

 

So the real question is should I have more remorse for the things I did or should you for not taking advantage of a once in a lifetime opportunity for stupidity? What should you have done?

 

Provided that the Dudes have escaped the Mayan tragedy, I will be hanging out with them this weekend. Be sure to drop by, read some great posts and vote.

 

The Lonely Station

It had been a long trip. He had many times cursed himself for volunteering to escort the body, but it was after all his home town.

Escorting the body was a crappy detail. They hadn't even booked him a ticket, so he was forced to sit in an uncomfortable proximity to this box of death. Nobody at home would appreciate the maudlin humor of sitting on a coffin on a train watching the world go by through the window.

Everyone knew what was in this car, so far from the engine that one couldn't hear it from this distance. There were surely no ticket takers or food service this far from the front. It had been a long ride with little to do but watch life pass by on the other side of the window.

Then he saw it. It was a lonely station in a lonely little town. Population was a very spread out nine hundred and change. A number so small that you could believe that people knew everyone else, but the distance and the terrain made neighbors strangers.

A sleepy town set far from the tracks with only a station alerting riders on these tracks that there was any civilization nearby. Not that you'd call the diner and feed store a civilization, but after where he had been this was home and comforting. It should have been anyway, but he couldn't be comfortable near the body.

This wasn't the homecoming he wanted. He didn't expect his family to meet the train, it was a long way and they were undoubtedly preparing for his arrival at home. Likely Uncle Jack would come pick him up in the beat up old ford truck that he'd bought new what seemed like a lifetime ago.

Uncle Jack had been the town hero, starring on the high school football team, earning himself a scholarship and making it all the way to the pros. He'd bought that truck brand new with his signing bonus, right before tearing every ligament in his right knee. Ultimately he'd moved back home to this small town.

It was his Uncle Jack that had suggested getting out and making a name for himself. Lacking the athletic prowess of his uncle, he had decided on the Army. Discipline, hard work, but more importantly an escape to the far-flung regions of the world had its allure.

It would be an interesting reunion. He'd said some things to his disapproving father and worried mother on his way to boot camp that were immature. He had grown up, the Army had made sure of that. His service had been something in which they could take pride. He was proud of himself and his service. He loved his dress uniform with his medals proudly displayed.

 

Why did they have to be on the body.

 

This is my entry in Dude Write's December Flash Fiction challenge. The prompt is the picture at the top of the post. If you enjoyed this, click over and read other entries using the same picture prompt. If you're a dude, consider writing an entry of your own and joining us.

 

Who Wants to Be Popular?

"I'd rather be right than popular." Somewhat the words of George W. Bush.


"I'd rather be alone for the right reason that with someone for the wrong reasons." -Leah Thompson's character from Some Kind of Wonderful.


I'm a people pleaser, so I want to be popular.

There, I said it. No offense to then President Bush...dude, you were president and popular enough to win the popularity contest we call POTUS while not being the crispest chip in the bag.

Certainly no offense to Ms. Thompson who was and is undeniably hot and an actress who has likely won her fair share of popularity contests.

Your question is going to be, "what's your point?" (Yeah, read your mind as easily as you read my blog)


Well, I want to be a popular blogger. I want to be read by everyone, shared by everyone, and then read by everyone else...and their friends. Heck, I even want the creepy stalkers of those friends to stalk my blog.

As a blogger, I've talked to plenty of people who write for themselves. They need an outlet for feelings or thoughts. They want an escape. Words like "cathartic" are used frequently. I frequently want an escape, but less often it is to writing. Sure, I have some random thoughts that escape my mind onto the pages of my blog here.

Popularity often comes with a cost, like making a kid dive into a quarry that is only two feet deep, oh wait that's a movie. Popularity is hard to maintain. Popularity begs questions like:

Does desiring popularity change my writing?

SHOULD it change my writing?

Should I abandon my personal persona and take on someone new?

Should I start cursing like a drunken sailor on shore leave?

I'm currently separated from the love of my life, yet I can't let that change my voice. Kicked in the crotch by love, I should be singing Soprano (the singing kind, not the TV Mafia kind) , but my writing isn't affected. Ok, that's not true. I haven't been writing as much recently at all lately. But I'm not planning to write about pain here. Except normal kicks in the crotch and possibly setting fire to my foot, but not emotional pain.

My past efforts at becoming "successful" at writing have involved entering contests. I even did the challenge where you write a post every day for a month. Talk about phoning it in with some "I did it" filler posts. After yet more random contests, I stumbled upon Yeah Write and entered their contest a few times. I finished dead last twice (out of fifty entries) and began to reconsider my writing style. I couldn't be that bad, right?

Why wasn't I better received?

Was my blog style more "been there done that" or "bazinga?"

I finally came to the "obvious" conclusion that it was a gender thing, or that's what I rationalized in my head. I couldn't compete against mom bloggers who had more material and were looking for others to sympathize with...or so I supposed.

That lead me to the ultimate popularity ploy...starting my own clubhouse. Just because I couldn't make THIS cheer squad, didn't mean I couldn't start my own cheer squad...wait, that's another movie. Anyway, with the help of my buddy Youngman Brown, we discussed and brainstormed and finally began Dude Write. We wanted Dude Write to become an amazing place for the long forgotten male writers of a new generation to seek audience and perfect their craft. Selfishly, I wanted others to like me, to see me as an equal, to eventually crown me as champion and king!

I've learned to live with disappointment. As much as that Droopy the Dog-like statement is fun to say, it isn't true. I learned that I need to work on my writing. I need more polish (that's polish with a small 'p' which is to say I don't need sausage) after I write. I also learned that I like my star shining to help others shine brighter. I get immense satisfaction when someone accepts their win with humility and posts their (Youngman Brown created) Man Card with pride on their site. You know... that fine line between Chad 'Ochocinco' Johnson's Riverdance celebration of a touchdown and the simplicity of the "act like you've done it before and hand the ball to the ref" of Walter 'Sweetness' Payton (RIP).

What about you, has a desire for popularity changed your writing?


UPDATE! I AM Popular, now! 

100 Things To Do After You Buy This Book

Y'all know me...

Or I have you convinced through my stellar writing that you do.

I don't do endorsements.

I don't review or critique.

I have decided to make an exception and given that the Mayan world is ending in a little over two weeks, you have a small window to forgive me or a small window to get over yourself or simply a small window that I must endure your seething hatred.

So, what epic event could cause such a shift in philosophy here in Myndville? Umm, did you not catch the slipped in threat of world ending doom? Ok...so I don't believe it and you know that...you're absurdly sharp.

No, today, it's all about a book. It's THIS book.

One of my favorite bloggers has come out of the closet...NO, that's not what I mean. The Simple Dude has revealed himself...again, NO, that's not what I meant, keep your mind out of the gutter. Jon Hanson is his name IRL (that's In Righteous Laughter for those of you not hip to the slang that I'm slingin') and he has written a fabulous ebook just in time for the holidays.

Now, you're probably thinking...

"If the world is coming to an end on the 21st (ugh, he totally ruined the surprise for me!) why would I buy this book about what to do before the Apocalypse...that I wouldn't open until after it was supposed to happen?"

You're a clear thinker and you NEED this book.

NOW!

(No, seriously click the little Kindle book cover there and order it. What else are you going to spend $2 on? A bad IPad game that you'll become bored with in a few minutes?)

(No, SERIOUSLY...click the link or I'm holding my breath.)

Thank you for allowing me to breathe and live, knowing that you will be laughing for hours and it is all my doing.

I'm treating each chapter as if it were the twelve days of Christmas, or an Advent calendar. I'm reading it slowly and savoring it's goodness. Too much?

So here it is in the back of the jack (et) style...

Apocalyptic world collapse got you down? Pick up Jon Hanson's 101 Things To Do Before the Apocalypse. Each chapter details a perfect and unique opportunity allowed by this unique world peril. Who cares if the Mayans were wrong or right, there was never a better reason to celebrate Christmas early and purchase this hysterical self-help book.

Scott Jung of itsmynd.com

Get it on Smashwords.com

Get it on Amazon.com

 

If You Need Me, I'll Be Over Here... Arapining

I know what you're thinking. Ok, I actually don't know what you're thinking most of the time, but every once in a while, I say something and I know what you're thinking. How, you might ask?

Because I'm thinking it myself. It's beginning to sound a lot like Christmas.

And welcome to another holiday season filled with merriment and cheer, some coal, undoubtedly Maids a Milking, along with a festive edition of the Mynd. You've got a lot going on, so I will be brief.

So, I'm rocking the station playing all the Christmas music. I'm of the crowd who puts up the tree the weekend after Thanksgiving and starts playing the music. I even have lights to surround my desk at work. But I digress, which is my habit. So, the song O Holy Night comes on the radio sung by some voice that likely belongs to a teenage girl. I prefer that song by Como or Cole, but again I digress.

O Holy Night is a song, so long sung in our lifetimes that many of us learned it as small children singing along with our parents. We don't need lyrics or sheet music, we're going to belt it out, without...thanks!

 

For some strange reason, and not the one that caused the Grinch's heart to grow 3 times its size, I paused as I belted out the third line. You know the one...

 

 

"Long lay the earth, in sin and arapining"

(the emphasis is on the PINE, which is the reason for the Christmas Tree, of course)

So I raced home to begin a night of unearthing and bringing you the definition of arapining. I assumed that because it was a churchy tune, it must have been a Hymn. I further assumed that being old and a Hymn, it would have to be written in the King's English where thee doth naught use words that wouldst be foundeth in thy modern eras.

Alas, not to mention Alack, (like smart Alack) I looked at the lyrics and found to my horror, not a new old word, but rather the following:

"Long lay the earth, in sin and error pining"

Well my friends, I have already tried to define 'pining' and despite my enthusiasm, I can only help to correct your diction of the lyric.

It would seem that a formerly French song, which was translated into English some 160 years ago by John Sullivan Dwight played some games with punctuation.

Obviously, you were led to believe that Mother Earth was laying around being lazy and pining or longing to get into some trouble. The true "error" was in lacking a proper comma AFTER "error" which would give us a more understandable (yet still using the word pining) translation:

"Long lay the earth, in sin and error, pining 'Til he appeared, and the soul felt its worth."

 

With that lesson for the day, I leave you to your shopping and decorating and general merriment. (Mary's Mint? Is that what hip-hop name they're calling Jesus these days?)

 

Poker vs. Poke Her

You can tell a lot about how a guy is going to flirt by how he bets in Poker.

I know you're thinking I'm crazy, which makes you...

 

...A first time reader.

So what makes me so bold in this proclamation? Guys are who they are no matter what the circumstances are and normally they don't behave differently when the social venue changes.


Let me give you 4 examples:

1. Jack "The Unpredictable"

Have you ever played online poker? There are plenty of sites out there that let you play with "fake money." They give you $10,000 and you can earn money just for showing up each day to play. There really is no risk.

Jack will sit down at a table and immediately go "All-In" with the Table maximum. This could be $400-$1000 or more of fake money. Jack isn't looking to play around. If he loses, his losses are $1000 that isn't real. If he can get 4-5 of the people at the table to call him and equally risk some of the play money, He could win a single hand and be up $5000 right off the bat. He is there for instant gratification.

With the Ladies, Jack is going to have a similar tact. He is going to walk up to quite a few with a cheesy line and deliver it in the shortest amount of time possible. Jack will be looking to leave that night with something equally worthless, not in the lady, but in the time he wants to spend with her. He is looking for a good time and in the shortest time possible. He isn't concerned with Quality, but rather Quantity.

2. "Aggressive" Steve

Steve wants to win, but isn't foolish to do so. He takes more chances. As the movie Rounders taught us, sometimes you play the cards, and sometimes you play against the other players. Steve definitely plays the other players. He won't have the flush, but if there is a flush draw, he may bet big to have you THINK that he has a flush.

Now, with the ladies, Steve is aggressive as well. He oozes confidence and he will flirt with a lady who is already with someone, but he won't be "serious" unless she is interested. Count on Steve to make an inappropriate reference to the size of his junk. Steve doesn't have to be a great guy, he just has to be a better guy than any of the other available options. Steve is hard to move off a target and once he makes a move, everything is committed to a night of passion.

 

3. "Tight" Mark

Mark plays tight. What exactly does that mean? Mark isn't going to play 10-7 Off Suit. Good Lord, what does that mean? This isn't a good place for a full explanation of poker (as if I know), but let's say that Mark wants his hand to be as good as it can be. Even if he thinks he has the best hand, he isn't looking to chase anyone out. He isn't going to be betting crazy. His bets will be consistent, but he will always believe he has to work it all the way until the end. He may go All-In, but it will likely be only to serve a warning to the other players that he will taking their money. He will be called out for "slow-rolling" to get more bets. It isn't his intention to be misleading.

Mark won't believe you like him. His entire cautious style will lead him to take it slow. He will have the emotions, but he isn't going to show them right away. Any relationship with Mark is going to be a slow build. It might take him enjoying some social friend time in the company of others to actually ask you out. Mark doesn't kiss on a first date. He isn't going to race to the bedroom. He's not going to have a play date with his parents in the first month. He will win over your sister AND your best friend, treating them almost as well as he treats you. Make no mistake, once Mark has found his mate, he will be All-In with a proposal.

 

4. Dave "Slow Roll"

Bets a card AFTER he catches his straight or the not so biblical three kings. You will never know what is on Dave's mind until he's taking down the pot. He will pull coy moves like flipping and down playing the Jack that gives him two pair, only to flip the 7 that gives him the full house. He wants you to bet so he can seem like he really has to think about whether he wants to call. He will often tell you he doesn't think you have the card and push his stack All-In.

At a bar, Dave is going to be interested in your friend. He knows this is going to burn you up and make you try harder. He's going to get you to ask him to dance and he may even turn you down the first time you ask. Dave will turn out to be a little bit of a game player, but might be reformable as a boyfriend, but he will still go play cards with the boys now and again and make you just a little crazy.

 

I know which type of guy I am in both venues, I suppose you can probably guess as well.

 

Who is THIS guy?

I bet I can tell you which type this guy is...

(See what I did there?)


What Type Are You?













 



 

I'm ALL IN this week on Dude Write, the place where Dudes Write, and compete, and generally scratch themselves. Check it out.

 

Left Pinky is No Longer a Toe

 

Remember when "they" determined that Pluto was not a planet?

"They" were out of line.

Many Very Elderly Men Jumped Six Ugly New...what?

(Am I old that I remember that mnemonic? (Anybody got a mnemonic to help me remember how to spell mnemonic?))

 

 

If you will not be turned...
(into a Dwarf Planet)
you will be destroyed!

"They" being the International Astronomical Union (IAU) came up with a couple of tricky textbook rewrites. This unholy union of Astronomers, undoubtedly lead by Senator Palpatine, clearly had it in for Pluto. Clearly by the misspelling of neighborhood below, we are lead to believe that the Europeans (pronounced You ROPE peons) are involved with their Theatre, Colour, Honour, Rumour, Humour. I blame instead the Australians. You know who you are...

 

Resolution 5A was the first and they felt it necessary to define what a planet is:

A planet is a celestial body that (a) is in orbit around the Sun, (b) has sufficient mass for its self-gravity to overcome rigid body forces so that it assumes a hydrostatic equilibrium (nearly round) shape, and (c) has cleared the neighbourhood [sic] around its orbit [ref].

Further, "They" have defined a new category called a Dwarf Planet as such:

A celestial body that (a) is in orbit around the Sun, (b) has sufficient mass for its self-gravity to overcome rigid body forces so that it assumes a hydrostatic equilibrium (nearly round) shape, (c) has not cleared the neighbourhood [sic] around its orbit, and (d) is not a satellite [ref].

Florax

I am the Florax and I speak for the planets.

First of all, we prefer "little planet" if you are going to so designate us.

Second, a planet, by orbiting the sun, is by definition a satellite. So that last one was a dig on the fact that Pluto is barely larger than its own moon and it is not larger than the moons of many other planets. Unappreciated!

Lastly, just because a planet is not packing a gat and cleaning up its 'hood doesn't make it any less a planet!


In a similar move, the International Foot Fetish Yodelers (IFFY) has designated the left pinky toe a "Dwarf Toe" and petitioned that it be removed from the foot.

IFFY has defined a toe as:

A toe is (a) having a toenail that must be clipped regularly, (b) wherewithal to go to market, (c) or not, (d) ability to choose to enjoy Roast Beef, (e) or not, (f) sufficient mass to overcome rigid body masses and gravity to hold the body erect on its own, (g) is not a satellite, and finally (h) a strong bladder is required.

Obviously, IFFY lacks imagination in their resolutions.


Unfortunately for left pinky toe, the nub of a nail that hardly requires clipping and can be brought to correct size by a mere swipe on the carpet, there will be no more "wee wee wee all the way home" for that piggy!

In other news, right pinky toe has begun the callous behavior of rubbing his neighbors the wrong way.

 

 

 

I am entering this into the latest Dude Write starting lineup. Come check out the dudes and their fine posts. On Monday, come back and give your opinion in vote format.

 

Glinting in the Sun

When I saw it, I nearly cried.

Glinting in the sun, recently unearthed as I labored to plant new roses in my garden.

It's loss had paved the way to more losses. Its loss unremembered, unexplained...so contrary to the promise it represented, a promise that required loss of the finger if the ring was lost.

It had been replaced, but the damage was done.

The accusations, the luggage, the damage in haste to the roses so lovingly grown.

Discovered as I planted the new roses, the memories of it came flooding back and then unleashed a flood of salty tears.

 

I am participating in the monthly flash fiction challenge at Dude Write, the place where dudes write and compete. October's challenge had 500 words to tell a story that begins with "When I saw it, I nearly cried." I told mine in an even 100. I hope you like it. Head over, read the other entries and vote on the 1st.

 

100 Word Song - Sharp Dressed Man

 

Hitting up the next 100 Word Song challenge over at Lance's place.

This one to ZZ Top's Sharp Dressed Man.

 

He looked good, but he always looked good. It was a gala event and he would command the attention of the ladies. Heck, he would have everyone's attention. Babes in bikinis would gather around him, going largely unnoticed, such was his presence.

His car wouldn't be the fastest, nor would anyone notice him being dropped off in the Limo, but nobody beat him on the suit. Armani was his friend. He practically lived in it. His hair perfectly styled, he sipped his Evian as he made his way to the center of the action.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, for your entertainment, 12 Rounds of Heavyweight Boxing..."

Muck That!

16868? Your order is ready!

This is a simple number 16868.

What it represents is part insanity and part insanity. Greetings from the Rebel Race!

Surely you've heard of it, or something similar. Tough Mudder or the Warrior Dash are other similar races. Imagine if you took a triathlon, removed the actual swimming and took away the bicycles, then had it being run by a Marine drill instructor. Did I mention there would be mud? Oh, and Beer!

We Were Clean...

So the concept is simple, you run a 5K (that's 3.1 miles) with a few obstacles. You can also choose to run a 15K, if you like to prolong the periods between when you begin running and begin drinking. A 5K is simple, of course, in principle. So simple that training isn't really required.

You start as Teenwolf and I did by getting your number and pinning it on. Most people wear it on their shirt, but as I had a "most muscular" pose I was planning for later, I decided to chance safety pins on my shorts. If only you could see my feet, you would note the whiteness of my legs socks and shoes. I chose to wear my optional eye black patches in the Belushi pose. Yes, I ran the race with mock surprise.

So the race started with a daring sprint down a path behind a few barns and I went ahead and let my fellow runners find and take with them the land mines left by our equine friends. The first obstacle was so ridiculous that I thought we had wasted our time. We had to put our hands down and crawl under some snow fencing. Please Rebel Race, be better than that!

After we crossed the road, the next big obstacle we faced was a rope cross of a pond. It was probably about 50 yards across and seemed like it would be no problem, I had worn long socks after all. Lock the legs, go hand over hand, how tough could it be? Well, the rope burned everything it touched. My hands and legs were instantly calloused and I cursed my lack of gloves and military grade boots. Did I mention the water was cold? And Muddy? And kinda deep? Midway across, my feet barely touched the bottom and when they did, there was a good foot of mud. I survived the swim and realized I would never do a triathlon. Note to self, muddy waterlogged shoes and socks are difficult to run in...

The majority of the next third of the course was running and leaping small obstacles. I had visions through this period of a Steeplechase race. Survival was the key. Around the two thirds mark, we got to muck through some small streams, many compatriots began to complain and try to go around these. Running the race with my eldest son was tremendously rewarding as we faced each obstacle together, trying to survive and enjoy, oh and do a little better than the other. The next obstacle was an over-under drill where four pipes were above the water by maybe 6-8 inches and you cleared the first by climbing over, then you had to go under the second, with the third and fourth being the same. Keeping your face out of the muddy water was the challenge. Following that was a nice mud pit that most people tried to stay on their feet through. We decided on another tact. We went Superman dive into a penguin belly slide and we flipped mid slide and did the back-stroke out of the pit...it was epic and people applauded and gave us hugs just to get partially muddy.

There was a rope ladder climb, a tire course, a few hay bale pyramids, as many hurdles as they could fit, some ninja turtle sewer pipe crawls, and a really tall American flag fence to climb. The run ended with a slow amble down the beach where I might have been heard screaming' "if you're not going to play Chariots of Fire, I'm not running!" A final crawl under barbed wire through some more mud and we finished. Behind many and ahead of some, we were soaked and more than ready for pictures!

Did I mention I am never getting Mud out from some places?

Did I mention I am never getting Mud out from some places?

Here we are a little less clean, did you see the color of my "white" socks? Since you asked, here's my "most muscular" shot with Teenwolf. Note, the heart is a muscle.

Please click on over to Dude Write to read the other Dude Writers and vote for my entry starting Sunday at 9pm.