Tag: Culture

If the jeans fit, wear them (until your legs go numb)

image Welcome to this week’s installment of Post Traumatic Sunday, which are posts written during my first marriage. None have appeared on this blog before, and only a couple were included in my book. These posts aren’t about venting or vindictiveness as much as they are about reflecting someone dealing with an unhappy marriage in the best way he knew how: Through humor.

Eight years later, I am happily re-married to someone who constantly inspires me to laugh for the right reasons.

Now, we can all laugh together…

* * * * * * * *

I have a favorite pair of jeans I refuse to give up, and which, over the last few years, my wife has attempted to eradicate on six different occasions. She hates these jeans because, according to her, they are “ripped, frayed and embarrassing.” Particularly when I forget to change them before going out somewhere in public, such as our front yard. Her attempts to get rid of my jeans have escalated from them being “lost,” to an incident last week in which she claimed my jeans “spontaneously combusted,” forcing her to put out the flames with the nearest extinguishing device: A meat cleaver. Continue reading If the jeans fit, wear them (until your legs go numb)

When it comes to maintaining my yard, the luck stops here

image It was the sweet, yet somehow guilt-ridden aroma of fresh-cut grass wafting from my neighbor’s yard that inspired me to uncover the mower and plot a course for adventure last weekend. Though I knew my decision would alter the course of an entire ecosystem that had evolved within our front yard over the past month, I had nothing but the best of intentions when I set out to cut the grass last on Saturday.

Keeping in mind Murphy’s Law says that anything that can go wrong will go wrong, those of you who experienced a problem-free day of activities on Saturday can thank me — because Mr. Murphy spent the day at my house.

Given the fact that any yard hazards (dog bones, garden hoses, hibachis, small bicycles, etc.) had long been swallowed by what appeared to be grass genetically altered to grow at the speed of light, there was no small amount of trepidation in my hands as I unscrewed the gas cap to check my fuel supply.

And, of course, the tank was empty. Continue reading When it comes to maintaining my yard, the luck stops here

Photo from ‘The Box’ re-opens case of missing hillbillies

image Some of you may have noticed the last few postings of The Box have been missing on Tuesdays. That’s because, as regular readers of this feature, you have developed an investigative journalist’s eye for detail. For those who may not have noticed because of reading with irregularity, you may want to add Triscuits to your diet. Regardless, the reason The Box has been on hiatus is simple: journalism is a dangerous job.

Especially when “Skippy” the rabid, blindfolded squirrel is unaccounted for.

Each Tuesday, with Skippy’s help, I utilize my investigative journalism skills to determine the circumstances within a photo selected from The Box: a collection of unidentified photos that has remained unclaimed in our newsroom since the 1980s. Sort of like those 1984 graduation party photos your kids found and that you deny being in. Continue reading Photo from ‘The Box’ re-opens case of missing hillbillies

Stressed out? You can probably sue someone for that

image Recently, a federal jury in Billings, Mont., awarded $1 million to a woman who said she suffered from post-traumatic stress after her Delta Airlines jet made an emergency landing in November of 2011. The case gained attention because it opens the floodgate for other post-traumatic stress lawsuits, which includes anyone who has ever ridden in a taxi in downtown New York.

Though I never suffered anything as severe as post-traumatic stress from my own NYC taxi experience, it was many weeks before I could free my mind from the terrifying image of the driver flipping the bird to other taxi drivers with both hands as he navigated through Madison Avenue traffic using only his knees. Even today, I’m sure that his back seat still has a perfect impression of my hands — in the form of a death grip — which he can use as a nice conversation piece. When you stop and think about it, most of us deal with potential traumatic stress situations on a daily basis without giving much thought to lawsuits.

Just this morning, for example, I filled the gas tank. Continue reading Stressed out? You can probably sue someone for that

Tax terms that can help cover your assets

image After clearing off the kitchen table and finding an outlet for the calculator, I sat down to do my taxes. As always, I made sure to have all the necessary documentation and forms — W4s, tax forms, bank statements, insurance reports, tax schedules and, most importantly, a full box of Kleenex.

As I sat staring at this year’s tax booklet, I noticed a special section of “Tax Terms,” which is an alphabetical listing of terms one may encounter during the tax preparation process. Each term is followed by a brief description meant to enlighten the truth-seeking taxpayer through “real-life” examples. For instance, the IRS uses “Jane” and “John” to illustrate the term “Ability to Pay.” In this scenario, Jane is filthy rich, with homes on both coasts that she visits by way of her own Lear jet.

By comparison, John earns what the IRS calls a “more modest salary,” which affords him a flashlight and a camper shell to live in.

(Read the rest at Long Awkward Pause!)

Static in your marriage can lead to poor TV reception

image It’s time for another exciting edition of Post Traumatic Sunday, which are posts written during my first marriage. None have appeared on this blog before, and only a couple were included in my book. Please understand that this is not about venting or vindictiveness; I was simply someone dealing with an unhappy marriage in the best way I knew how: Through humor.

Eight years later, I am happily re-married (ridiculously so) and constantly inspired to laugh for the right reasons.

Now we can all laugh together…

* * * * * * * *

After getting the kids to bed last night, my wife and I settled onto the couch for some much-needed down time only to find that our television was having transmission problems — beginning with the remote. My wife is the only one in our family qualified to operate it. Being a male, the longer I fool with it the further I revert along the evolutionary scale, until I’m reduced to beating the remote on the coffee table like a chimp trying to open a Super Ball. Continue reading Static in your marriage can lead to poor TV reception

A woman’s ability to remember is only equalled by… oh heck, I forget

image It’s time for this week’s edition of Post Traumatic Sunday, which are posts involving my ex-wife. None of them have appeared on this blog before, and only a couple were included in my book. Though none of these posts will be mean-spirited or vindictive, I was someone doing his best to deal with an unhappy marriage through humor.

Eight years later, I am happily re-married (my friends are sick of hearing about it, actually) and constantly inspired to laugh for the right reasons.

Now we can laugh together…

* * * * * * * *

Thanks to an exciting discovery published by the National Academy of Sciences, we’re one step closer to understanding an important, fundamental difference between men and women — which is that women have better memories, particularly when it comes to remembering why they’re mad at their husbands.

This earth-shattering discovery was made by psychology professors at Stony Brook University in New York, the same university that brought us groundbreaking data on the yawning habits of the domesticated yak. Continue reading A woman’s ability to remember is only equalled by… oh heck, I forget

When it comes to looking ahead, look no further than your behind

imageYou should be aware that the idea of promoting an important issue through a week of “National Awareness” has gotten… How can I put this tactfully..?

Really stupid.

There was a time when, in order to command the attention of our entire country for a whole week, you actually needed to have an issue that was important. It needed to be something that could save lives, improve society or, at the very least, boost the sale of Hallmark cards.

But not anymore.

I say this because, as you may or may not know, we’re in the middle of “National Psychic Week.” What? You didn’t know? Don’t worry! There’s actually another one in August. That’s the good news. The bad news is that there’s a good chance you are not psychic. According to one website, the purpose of each week-long focus is to: “dispel skepticism [of psychics] through factual awareness.”

Thanks to an article that appeared in the Eugene Register-Guard, I have a better understanding of how it might take an entire week to dispel all that skepticism — especially after reading about Ulf Buck, a blind psychic from Meldorf, Germany, who claims he can read people’s futures by feeling their naked buttocks. Continue reading When it comes to looking ahead, look no further than your behind

Who knew navigating heavy traffic meant being in the right hemisphere?

image Welcome to this week’s edition of Post Traumatic Sunday, which are all posts involving my ex-wife. None of them have appeared on this blog before, and only a couple were included in my book. Though none of these posts will be mean-spirited or vindictive, it’s easy to recognize I was someone coping with an unhappy marriage through humor. Eight years later, I am happily re-married (ridiculously so) and inspired to write — and laugh — for the right reasons.

Finally, we can all laugh together…

* * * * * *

It’s a well-known fact that men and women think differently. This is because of the right and left hemispheres of the brain. While women tend to rely on the more creative, right hemisphere of the brain, which is responsible for verbal skills and abstract thoughts, men favor the more technical left side of the brain, which is mainly reserved for thoughts of sports and beer. Continue reading Who knew navigating heavy traffic meant being in the right hemisphere?

Don’t do as I drink (and other lessons my father unintentionally taught me)

Yep, that's me, learning about the dangers of smoking .
Yep, that’s me, learning about the dangers of smoking .

I come from a long line of alcoholics. Truth be told, the roots of my family tree are probably located in a beer garden.

For this reason, I was determined to break the cycle and be the first member of my family to remember most of his 20s and 30s, not develop a beer gut and actually know who all of my kids are.

I was genuinely frightened of carrying a gene I assumed had its own alcohol content — which is why I didn’t crack open my first beer until I was 20; in a moment of weakness; working under the blistering Texas sun; because there was no water or soda; and I had just read about spontaneous human combustion. Continue reading Don’t do as I drink (and other lessons my father unintentionally taught me)