Weekend Wrap Up – Don’t Worry, It Won’t Be Too Over Stimulating…

As any decent blogger knows, the beginning of the week is when everyone reads the most blogs. Why? Because they are back in the office and have nothing better to do. Why blog from home when there are so many other activities available like washing behind your boys’ toilet or figuring out what that smell is in the kitchen sink or maybe even watching your child participate in a sporting event. Do I know about the high frequency of blogging during the workweek from experience? Why yes, yes I do. An experienced blogger once told me about it.

I read, heard and saw a lot this weekend. This is partly because I swore that this Memorial Day Weekend, for the first time in almost 10 years, I was going to sit in the comfort of my own home and watch both the Indy 500 and Coca-Cola 600 from start to finish. If only I hadn’t been so precise with my wordage. The weekend might have been much different if not for the 24 hours it took to get in just over half of the 600 mile NASCAR race. (I KNOW, MOST OF YOU ARE ALREADY LOOKING FOR SOMEPLACE TO CLICK, BUT THIS ISN’T ABOUT RACING…SO SIT DOWN!!) As it was, I ended up spending all day Sunday and just over half of Monday in front of my TV waiting for the rains in Charlotte to end (remember that name, it will be relevant again in about two months…or at the end of nine months, to be more precise).

I am also sad to admit this, but I ended up freebasing on Facebook most of that time. The topics were many and wide-ranging, if not important, timely or worth even mentioning. I had a hankering for beignets the entire weekend and since I live in a suburb named Corona, California, this meant settling for the much cheaper donut. So, I had the hankering for donuts all weekend.

I wasn’t really sure why until I learned that there is a topless donut shop in Maine. How is this related to my craving you wonder? Easy – my topless radar must have been going off. Or, it’s just a coincidence, but that isn’t near as exciting, so we’ll stick to it being my topdar working. Folks, I don’t know if you’ve ever been to the land of my maiden people, but in Maine, you can’t even consume alky-hall until noon on Sundays. It strikes me as a wee bit odd that donuts can be served all nekkid like. Rumor has it there is a 43 year-old waitress slinging the dough at this place. I’m not saying that’s old. After all, Tina Fey is 39 and lots of great looking women are in their late 30s to early 40s and they look as good as ever (anyone got any Chapstick? My lips are suddenly parched…) I’m just saying it doesn’t sound like the donut shop is going after Hooters’ business any time soon.

I personally would love to dunk a crawler in this eatery, and NO, it’s not because of the topless part. It’s because of topless part. Ok, I’m kidding. It’s because the topless part would let me sit in the shop and say things like “do we get to see her donut holes,” “wow, she’s got a lot of jelly filling,” “I’d love to dunk my crawler in that cup of coffee,” “seeing her makes me want to have a maple bar (or twist or other long donut,” “look at the glaze on that one” and the obligatory ‘please, whatever you do, don’t give me an old-fashioned!”

Granted I would be asked to leave the fried goodness’ premise before even getting to the second or third canned comment, but rest assured that I would put them on cue cards for the other patrons to be able to say.

The other hot topic of the weekend was Monday’s Sci-Fi Channel marathon of the mid-70s (almost) classic, Land of the Lost. All the cool kids were watching it, which explains why I only watched 2 episodes. The first thing that struck me was how GREAT the theme song was. It had a banjo in it and a nice beat. And let’s face it, we all remember the words: “just sit right back and you’ll hear a tale, a tale of a fateful trip.” Ok, I have been informed that wasn’t correct, but you remember it. “Marshall, Will and Holly on a routine expedition…” I hear that and am immediately transported back to an elementary school morning eating breakfast with my brother watching that while also hoping we wouldn’t have to leave before Voltron came on. Crap! I didn’t mean to say that out loud!

Then there were the Sleestacks with their bejeweled eyes, rubbery skin that could not possibly have any breathability, and horny heads. And don’t kid yourself, my friends and I went a long way with the whole horny heads thing yesterday! In fact, whenever I am finally big enough to fit on a motorcycle, we are forming a biker gang and our jackets will say “The Horny Sleestacks.” Let’s just say it’s the type of gang Fonzie would be too afraid to rescue Richie, Ralph and Potsy from. And why did the Sleestacks talk like men but wear nighties that barely covered their Slee-cracks? Also, am I the only one who thought Chaka looked like Ron Howard’s brother Clint?

Then there was the whole Darren-Dilemma, so named after the switch of Darrens on Bewitched. They changed Dads mid-stream. Unless it was an uncle that came in as a replacement. Honestly, I can’t remember. But if that’s the case, that’s better known as the “Coy-Vance Maybe No One Is Looking Switch,” named after the not-so famous Duke cousins who replaced Bo and Luke in their own clothes. Looking back, it’s obvious to me that the show was trying to capture the “I like the Brady Bunch, but I wish they lived with dinosaurs and lizards” crowd. Will and Holly looked just like Greg and Cindy Brady. Respectively, of course. To call the special effects dated would be about as obvious as calling Oprah a media-God. I was going to say media-whore, but then people would kill me.

Lastly this weekend was the season premier of Jon Cheating On Kate Even Though He Said He Really Didn’t Do Anything, Plus 8. It was the kids’ 5th birthday party. It looked like it went ok, until the end of the show. That’s when they interviewed Jon and Kate together and separately about the future of their relationship. AWKWARD! Normally I wouldn’t watch that show, but now I guess I know how all those people that watch racing just for the wrecks that I badmouth so much feel…I’m thinking ole TLC is going to have a new mid-season replacement. Jon + Kate = Hate. That wasn’t at all original, I know…

The Most Interesting Man In The World (And No, I Don't Mean Alex Trebec Or The Inventor Of The Snuggie)

I’ve been wanting to write about this topic for awhile now but wasn’t exactly sure how to do it justice. I know what you are thinking this is about, but no, it’s not about Thomas Crapper, inventor of the toilet. That being said however, we kind of owe that guy a lot. Sometimes I get flush just thinking about it. Nor is it about Gene Rayburn, host of Match Game AND Match Game 76, which was like getting to hang out with your grandparents when they were drinking and cool. Without him, we would never have been able to end our sentences with the word ‘blank,’ as in ‘Jimmy and Judy want to have another child, but Jimmy keeps shooting blank.’ Wait, that’s not the best example to feature the whole ‘blank’ thing. Let’s try this one, ‘Sally forgot to tell Willy that he blanked her the other day at the park.’ You know what, I might be better at answering those than actually writing them. Ah, but I did like cocktail hour with the seniors. Charles Nelson Reilly, Betty White, Richard Dawson and more. Either my perception of the 70s is way off, or those were some real swinging cats. Mental note: strike the phrase ‘real swinging cats’ from my daily list of approved words, immediately. Also, remember to take that Diet Mountain Dew out of the freezer that I put there to make it cold super quick yesterday.

The individual I meant to discuss today is the somewhat mysterious, but equally cool ‘Most Interesting Man in the World’ from those Dos Equis commercials where he gives us his thoughts on various topics. You know who I’m talking about, right? The middle-aged bearded man with the suave Latin accent who always ends the commercials with ‘stay thirsty my friends.’ Of course if you don’t know who I am talking about, you can just look at the picture up there that I posted. Uh, forgot about that. I supposed it would have been a lot easier to say that than to have described him, huh? I’ve seen a lot of his commercials and I dig them. Mental Note 2.0 – never, ever use ‘dig’ again unless you are holding a shovel, or possibly a spoon.

Provided I clicked the right thing recently, I have become his fan on Facebook, because we all know that the sign of legitimacy in our pop culture is governed by the ads we see on the left or right border of Facebook. Heck, I’ve been offered Huey Lewis and Billy Joel tickets in some of those ads (though curiously, no Barry Manilow). It’s almost eerie, like they know me or possibly have some really nice software coding that takes my interests and panders to them with ticket offers, groups and discount meats. Yes, I’m making the meat part up, but if any Facebook programmer happens to be reading this, let me say 2 things. 1: Please don’t sue me, 2: If you happen to offer discount meats on your amazing and fantabulous site, I would not mind and 3: I hate your new layout. Oops, guess that was more than 2 things, but read it and suck it, Facebook programmers!

Now back to the Most Interesting Man In The World, or MIMITW because I know I am going to get tired of writing out his name and that will just lead me to eventually loathe him, which is in direct contrast to why I started writing all of this in the first place. MIMITW is so cool. I think he needs a sit-com or at the very least, a comic book about him. It always seems like he is sitting around a gaming table (possibly playing baccarat like James Bond) in a tropical, smoke filled bar. And of course he is always surrounded by the ladies (for full effect, please say that in a low and slow manner stretching the ‘a’ sound, not high-pitched and exuberant like Jerry Lewis).

What makes this man so interesting, well other than Dos Equis’ advertising agency? Is it his accent? Is it his beard, or is it the ladies (again, read above for proper utterance of ‘the ladies’) that are always surrounding him? You can just picture this guy globe trotting the world to a slow latin beat version of Ricky Nelson’s ‘Traveling Man,’ because this guy WOULD NEVER listen to Rock and Roll or sadly, Barry Manilow or the Carpenters. Though because he IS the most interesting man in the world, perhaps he could lend credence to their music by just acknowledging it just once. By doing that, he would help me out a great deal, but that’s really beside the point here.

He’s got himself a lady in every port and probably gambles on house credit. I’m also thinking he has hideaways, but not those under the water kinds that only the world’s most evil criminals all seem to have. Those are pre-fabricated and can be purchased at Home Depot and Lowes, by the way. No, The Most Intersting Man’s hideaways are all over the world. In Switzerland’s Mountains, Jamaica’s Beaches, the coast of Italy and a condo in Barstow, gateway to Vegas AND Death Valley. And yes my friends, he probably has a Diner’s Card, too.

You get the feeling that people just want to be near this guy to hear him speak of his feelings on too tight trousers or maybe why you can’t be cool with a parrot on your shoulder because they cannot warn you when they need to make the stinky. And as close as people want to be to him to increase their cool quotient, he keeps them at arm’s length and never reveals too much about himself, thus perpetuating his myth, or the other thing that usually happens – makes people think he’s gay. This was actually a tactic I used to employ heavily, until I got a blog and became so desperate for material that I almost referred to myself in third person once.

Right about now, you may be asking yourself if I, the author of this blog, would want to be the The Most Interesting Man, or possibly you are asking yourself what the h-e-double-hockey-sticks is that idiot writing about now. Well, you’re in luck. I have an answer for both those questions actually. I would not want to be the Most Interesting Man in the World because I do not want to wear tuxedos, or shoes for that matter, nor do I know how to play Baccarat and every time I say that word, it makes me think of Burt Bacharach and that leads me to singing songs like ‘The Look of Love,’ which I’m sure is no strange tune to The Most Interesting Man. And let’s face it, no tux or shoes is instant disqualification from the Most Interesting Man In The World sweepstakes. Also, I too have no idea what I am trying to write about here. This is possibly due to the fact that I have that Muppets song stuck in my head where they all sing and say nothing but ‘menomena.’ Damn that’s catchy. Like dysentery in the south pacific catchy.

Perhaps I could be the leader of the Most Interesting Man in the World’s entourage. No, strike that. I’m sure there is a dress code and that position would probably require me to make all of the Most Interesting Man’s details, travel plans, dinner reservations, car rentals with Hertz, etc. and I am far too much of a body energy conservationist (fine, call it what it really is if you insist – lazy) for that. So, I guess there is nothing left to do now but raise a glass and toast The Most Interesting Man In The World. Besides, I have run out of things to write about. But keep reading, my friends…


(By the way, I feel compelled to inform you that in the spirit of today’s topic, I wrote while alternating between a cup of fine Columbian Coffee and a much less finer cigar. This means not only have I burned a few holes into my clothing, but I’m pretty sure the spilled coffee is going to either make the keyboard stick or render it unusable in the very near future…)

Wait A Second, I Have A Blog??

It has been pointed out to me by oh, about 50 people in the last few months or so that I have what is apparently called a blog, which I’m told is short for web log. If that was the case though, shouldn’t it be called a Wlog (pronounced Wuh-log. Just said much quicker)? I have also been told that I have let that blog sit unbathed, unfed and unnurtured in the back of the intraweb’s shed for quite some time. Today I strive to change that.

The reason for my rededication to my Wlog is that I still do enjoy writing (defined by this individual as typing whatever comes to mind, spell checking it and hitting the nearest publish button) and the fact that I for no real good reason quit my pretty decent job last week. This now gives me plenty of spare time. But since I have already done the laundry, been to Disneyland and made fun of the tourists wearing socks and sandals and sorted my Barry Manilow CDs by favorite song AFTER Copacabana, I am looking for more to do.

It’s not that I haven’t had a wealth of experiences in the last several months to draw from. Take my two separate visits to some of Southern California’s favorite mental institutions. There was a wealth of bloggable stuff right there – like the fact that there is an exit sign every 3 feet but of course you can’t use a single one of them. Or the fact that we were feed every 45 minutes as if we were at the Karen Carpenter Memorial Hospital for the un-hungry and two-finger dieters. Then there’s the nurse that came to give me my meds and asked if they looked correct to me. Oh, lest I forget that I was the best basketball player in one certain mental institution, which I have found since my discharge gives me about as much street cred as Kimberly Drummond must have had when Arnold and Willis weren’t around.

But the most surprising element of my two uh, ‘vacations,’ was the fact that they still use leeches to bleed the bad mental mojo out of you. OK, I made the leech part up. They actually cut you with a surgical knife to bleed you. Apparently certain leeches are on the protected list.

Oh yeah, then there’s that whole thing about me becoming a daddy again. It hasn’t happened yet, but will towards the end of July. That will give me 3 daughters and undoubtedly an early stroke. It will also mean that after almost 7 years, I will have to get up again in the middle of the night and do stuff. Fortunately baby feeding and diaper changing isn’t rocket science so I should be able to manage at least partially ok. What will be harder to get used to is the return of crying, pouting and whining back into our home. And that’s just me when someone forgets to wrap the cheese back up properly…I know it’s been a while, but seriously, these are the jokes.

I guess that’s about it for my first blog back. I don’t want to say too much lest I use up all my story ideas, even though the Swine Flu should keep me busy for a while. So, what did we learn while I stopped blogging? Apparently it made me go crazy and want to procreate. Let that be a warning to everyone tempted to quit blogging!