Friday, February 25, 2011
Since my life has always been ruled by women...first my mom, then my friends, now my wife (and the plethora of women there are in her family)....I thought I'd talk about words and phrases.
See, one thing I've learned over the years is that nothing gets a women madder than when you say something you've been told not to say.
For instance, my mom hated the specific words/phrases "S*^K" and "Shut Up." I have some friends that cannot stand the word "biscuit" and another word that I won't post (it isn't bad, but draws the allusion of bad).
Now, this isn't to say that someone like my mom didn't like the really bad words or phrases, but those two I listed were completely, wash your mouth out with soap type bad. (Trust me - I can take the Pepsi challenge with flavors of soap)
Needless to say, you'd think all those years of being careful with my words around the ladies would have prepared me for marriage. Not so.
When Mrs. McGoo and I went through pre-marriage counseling, she told me there was one word that she asked that I never say. The word? "Nag"
She hated that word. I still don't really remember why though. It was probably because she told me that while we were watching a basketball game and it just never registered. Anyway, that's besides the point. Off-limits to use the word "Nag"...ok, GOT IT. But what if I said, you're being Naggy? Nah..not a good idea.
So that was the ONE word that she'd ask me not to say. Problem is, the longer our marriage has gone, the more words/phrases she's found to eliminate from my lingual repertoire. Now, I've have a laundry list of things I can't say.
"Mother-hen" - Not Allowed
"It's not THAT bad" - Banned
"I'm just sayin" - Grounded
"Hall Pass" - Brain Melted with Heat Vision
"Get it yourself" - Outlawed
"Heck yeah it makes you look fat" - Separated
Ok. So the last two we're ones that have ever been said, but I just threw them in to make it look better.
I'd write up there the context of how they are used and why they are bad, but I'm already at risk for just posting this. So you'll just have to trust me. If she so wishes to come on and post a comment and explain, I'll let her do so.
So if you're keeping count, we're basically on a loss of a word/phrase a year. No wonder so many men are so quiet at the end of their lives. Their words have been taken from them.
So for all you men out there....What are some key words or phrases you are banished from saying? Any advice?
It's not that bad is it?
Thursday, February 24, 2011
I see people all the time that keep up with their friends from high school and college. Truth is, I really only keep up with one friend from high school (he's still one of my best friends) and including my friend from high school, only have one real close friend from college (yes, one of my best friends still as well).
Most of the friendships that I have now were all made in the last ten years of my life. I think that's most likely the norm as friendships and family continue to evolve and we slide into phases in our lives that revolve around a spouse and/or children.
All that being said, I had to let go of a dear friend last week. We had known each other for quite some time. From the moment we met, we just seem to click. We shared a lot of the same common interests and even before I met my wife, my friend was always there to turn to for good times and bad. It's like he just knew what I liked to see and hear. Granted, we've had some ups and downs through the years, as there were times when something went wrong and he would just completely shut down on me.
I know I pushed his buttons too hard some times, but hey, that's what friends do right? (You should hear what I call my best friend from high school) So look, I'm not here saying I'm a saint; I've have, in the past, yelled at my friend quite a few times...I know, I know, I'm not the yelling type.
However, all it took was a few deep and serious phone calls and when the storms cleared, things would seem to pick back up right where we left off. All in all, it was really a friendship that seemed to get better day in and day out.
As with all friendships, ours changed a bit when I got married. Sure, Mrs. McGoo loved hanging out with just the three of us, but honestly, she only did it for me. Truth is, I think she always felt that my friend would have a piece of my heart that she could never have. Mrs. McGoo would probably admit that she wouldn't sing to me in a the way my friend could.
She stood by idly for a long time watching, but eventually, she and I had a talk about it all. I fought her wishes for a long time, years practically, but eventually, it was either my friend or a healthy marriage. Being that she's the bread winner, controls the keys to the bedroom, and cooks the meals, I reluctantly gave in.
I had a few months to prep for the split, but nothing really prepares you for what goes on in your heart when the day arrives that you've got to say goodbye and just unplug.
I don't wish this type of separation on anyone. I only hope that my friend finds someone that will give him the attention that he needs. He needs to be filled up with so much stuff that you'll never want to leave. But that's who my friend was. He'd store everything up inside and only let me in.
Goodbye HD-DVR. See you on the flip side
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
He pretty much hit everything in his profile. He's short and is short because of a medical condition (I think possibly spinal bifida). Because of that, he has a slight struggle walking. His voice is a bit higher and he looks a little young. However, he's one of the nicest guys I've ever met.
So, back to the story...
We walk into the computer lab and as we were sitting down, an employee said something to me from across the room. I didn't hear what he said, so he walked up to me and in a not-so-quiet way says, "Sir, we have a new policy in the computer lab that parents cannot bring kids into the lab."
About that time, he points to Brock and says, "He's your kid right?" Before I even had a chance to respond, Brock, in his kid-like voice says, "I ain't a kid, I'm a junior in college!!!"
The guy looks at me and says, "Oh, sorry sir, I just thought..." My reply - "You thought wrong."
Brock, visibly upset, as one can imagine sits down at the computer and starts to work. I tried to think about how he felt at the time, so I tried to make light of the situations in the only way I know how. I made fun of myself. I said, "Brock, I don't know who should be more insulted, me or you? I mean, he may have said you look young, but he just called me out for looking like your Dad. So don't feel too bad Brock. The ladies always love the younger looking guys."
That got a smile out of him and said "yeah, you do look pretty old...with that gray and all in your beard." I could tell he came around from being upset to having fun again. After he said it, I gave him a smile and he said, "Good to see you can appreciate the small things in life."
Good words buddy. Now about that Dad stuff...
Monday, February 14, 2011
However, because of the day, I decided to take time and look back and reflect on and appreciate the special someone in my life.
If anyone knows me, they know I'm a constant work in progress (I know, understatement of the year) and it has taken a special person to put up with me this long - and we're just getting started. I'm so thankful for the wife that God has given me. Years back, I thought one or two girls were "the one" but the good Lord said, "Nope, Kelly, you don't have a clue how good you'll have it. So you're going to have to deal with the fact that I'm not giving you what YOU think YOU want. I'm going to allow you to hurt a little bit NOW for the sake of you knowing what TRUE love is later."
And you know what, he was right. I hurt some way back when. But just like in every other area of life that God has guided me through, he showed me a path to something even more incredible than I even could imagine. You know the phrase, "God knows us better than we know ourselves?" Yep, it's true. He brought me someone I couldn't even imagine existed.
God brought me someone to love me for all the good things and all of the (many...ok, TONS) of bad things about me.
So today, I give THANKS to my Lord for blessing me with my beautiful bride, wife, best friend, and cutie pie...Mrs. McGoo.
Just like the Lord, Mrs. McGoo takes care of me and is in it with me til the end. She pays attention to detail, doesn't forget about the small things, enjoys having fun, is incredibly beautiful, and most of all, is a God-fearing woman.
I think we call that a Proverbs 31 kinda gal.
Happy Valentines Day Mrs. McGoo. I sure do think you're purdy
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
This was taken from a blog I read. Pretty funny and creative way, if you asked me, to keep your athletes in check.
"In a story that couldn’t be funnier if we made it up, Kansas seems to have employed a senior citizen watch brigade to improve its system of checking on athletes’ attendance to their daily classes. The force is in charge of signing in players when they come to class and making sure they stay for the whole period, although I’m sure most of the athletes would agree it’s pretty easy to sneak out during one of the handful of bathroom breaks the spies take during a given class. The school is using the old folks because the traditional class checkers, who were almost always students, were too easily struck by the celebrity of their assignments and could be ‘convinced’ to let players slide on their attendance. Senior citizens are apparently above being wooed by the high-profile athletes they track, although anonymous reports indicate that several of them are open to offers of ‘mashing up my peas’ and ‘turning the volume up on the TV,’ so it remains to be seen if the new system will really be any better.
There are drawbacks, however, like when the senior citizens end up in the wrong place on the wrong day or, you know, can’t actually see the players:
"Some checkers say their vision isn’t quite what it used to be, either: Except for the offensive linemen, it can be tough to pick the athletes on their lists out of a crowd.
On a recent morning between classes, the checkers gathered at a campus dining area called the Underground to familiarize themselves with the images of the athletes in their blue binders that had to be checked in the next period. A debate ensued over the distinguishing characteristics of “a medium-sized white kid” on the football team, though the checkers did manage to agree that “he was a nice-looking boy.”
Being an elderly class checker does have some downsides. Senior moments can be inconvenient: Jerry Robinson, a 67-year-old retired child psychologist, says he has waited for hours outside eerily quiet classrooms only to realize later he was in the wrong building or had confused the days of the week."
The newer, older accountability measures even go so far as to monitor the athletes during their classes, making sure they don’t spend class time texting or doing whatever else the kids are doing by observing them through the classroom windows, which I’m sure isn’t weird at all. Evening classes seem to be the only hope for those trying to avoid the everpresent eyes of the watchdogs, although tuning a nearby TV to ‘Bonanza’ will usually distract them long enough to make an exit. There isn’t really a point in telling you all this, but these old people jokes pretty much write themselves and laughing at Kansas is always a good time. That’s it though. As you were."
I could see some poor ole SAP doing this. Seems to fit right up his ally
Friday, February 4, 2011
That makes today a special day. It is a "birth" day of sorts. Not really anyone important, but more of a "thing." Today is the 7th anniversary or birth of Facebook.
Seven years ago a little dork of a fella launched a site on the web that would not only change his life, but college students, and people all over the world. What began as a way for dudes to creep on girls, chat with friends during class, and poke a random person has evolved into something so much bigger. Now you can still creep on girls, chat with friends during class, no one uses the poke button anymore, and everyone can see or read about the dumb mistakes you made two nights ago. Facebook has turned the weeks after spring break and Halloween into a college dude's creeping session and a college girl's worst nightmare.
I can't tell you how many times I've seen girls talk about how stupid they were on a specific day or night and how they regret taking 'that picture'. Most importantly it has promised anyone who entered college after 2006 will marry a person here or there that will worry their spouse will come across a photo that they wished they didn't see.
With all that being said, Happy Anniversary/Birthday Facebook. You turned a goober into a gazillionare and you're the best thing that ever happened to high school and college students. You just happen to be the worst thing for them at reunions and when they're trying to get a job.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Oh, you're wanting to know why I'm annoyed or complaining? Well, that has to do with the fact that I have to take a Literature class and a Landforms class for my major. You remember my degree right? Sports and Leisure Management. So it's natural for someone that wants to go into a field like that to need a background in rock formations and understanding the form of a poem?
They have to be the two most BORING classes that I've ever taken. Sure, you must be laughing at me. I'm laughing at myself honestly. I'm laughing at myself because I'm actually trying to make sense of it all. I'm laughing at how I actually read that stuff and try and understand it.
If the professor would allow me to give the class my REAL thoughts on the Literature I read, maybe it would be more interesting. If the professor would let me build one of those baking soda volcanoes for lab class, maybe it would be more interesting. But until then, how does anyone sit through these classes and actually enjoy them?
No, I'm not interested in knowing why a rock is curved and I'm certainly not interested in reading about a lady who lived in the 1800's would sleep with her dead husband for 20 years (really...that's what I've read) and how that makes me feel. It's stinking gross man, and I don't need a Literature class to culture me in disgusting.
Call me a complainer. Call me moody. Call me old. Call me whatever you want. When it comes to this class...see the first sentence of this blog.
I don't care