Tag: marriage

Remote-controlled rats, husbands could mark beginning of Brave New World (and yes, I’m scared)

image As I’ve mentioned before, because of our home’s proximity to the local wharf, from time to time we have a problem with rodents. Now, when I say “rodents,” I mean rats, and when I say “problem,” I mean finding mysterious entries scrawled on our grocery list that read:

Git mor cheeez.

However, I know that we aren’t alone in this, and that our neighbors undoubtedly have the same rodent problem. I know this because 1) They are our neighbors, and therefore live as close to the wharf as we do, and 2) Because we routinely lob assorted cheese curds into their yards before going to bed.

[Note to neighbors: We are NOT trying to entice the rats from our house into yours; we’re simply trying to entice you to eat more cheese.]

That said, some recent discoveries could change the way we go about solving our rat problem. According to a recent article in the journal Nature, researchers at the State University of New York have created the world’s first living remote-controlled rat. By implanting tiny electrodes in rats’ brains, scientists can command the rats to turn left or right, climb trees, navigate mazes, and, in some cases, stage dramatic light saber duels while dressed as tiny Star Wars characters. Continue reading Remote-controlled rats, husbands could mark beginning of Brave New World (and yes, I’m scared)

Nose whistling is the heart and soul of any relationship

imageIt’s one of life’s little mysteries, the fact that I can fall asleep in front of the television during a documentary chronicling man’s loudest explosions, yet be kept awake by the sound of my own nose whistling. In my defense, this was a new phenomenon, and something that, under any other circumstances, would have been amusing. However, at 1:30 in the morning, having your nose emit a solid C-major every time you exhale is just plain annoying.

What made matters worse was that I wasn’t alone in my musical endeavors. My wife was also blowing her horn — I’m guessing in E-flat — which, between the two of us, sounded like a pair of jug blowers trying to tune up for the spring dance. Instinctively, I grabbed the earplugs from the nightstand and inserted them. As I quickly discovered, this is a little like covering your ears so you can’t hear yourself sing. I then contemplated the idea of inserting the plugs directly into my nostrils, but decided against it for two reasons.

First, I would be forced to breath through my mouth, which would lead to snoring and bruised ribs.

Secondly, should my mouth somehow fall shut during the night, the resulting pressure would create a pair of high-velocity projectiles ricocheting through our bedroom without warning — the mere thought of which would keep me awake. Continue reading Nose whistling is the heart and soul of any relationship

Your home’s underbelly is no place to be manly

image There comes a time in every man’s life when he must set an example for his son by crawling under the house to fix something. This must be done with apparent fearlessness even though he knows whatever needs fixing is going to be located in the darkest corner of the home’s underbelly, probably behind a spider web the size of a commercial fishing net.

Several years ago, I used plywood to seal up the underside of our home and stop what I suspected were nightly “rave” parties hosted by our cat. These parties generally started around 11:30 p.m. and were held directly beneath our bedroom floor, where it sounded like 20 cats playing Twister. Naturally, I had no choice but to break up these parties by getting out of bed and shoving our 60-lb. Labrador headfirst through the crawl space in our closet floor.

My point is this: Sealing things up stopped the cat parties. Unfortunately, it also turned the crawl space under our home into a frightening black void where, thanks to evolution, a species of hairy, sightless, spider-like rodents with large fangs and the ability to mobilize telepathically has nested, colonizing into the hundreds.

Possibly even thousands.

I know this because I’ve shined a flashlight down there and — this is not an exaggeration — I’m pretty sure I saw something move. Continue reading Your home’s underbelly is no place to be manly

Apparently, the laws of physics don’t apply to our family’s laundry basket

image My wife and I have been trying to come up with an explanation for the volume of dirty clothes that accumulates in our laundry basket on a daily basis.

In an attempt to explain this phenomena by utilizing mathematic principles, we went through the laundry, separated the clothes, subtracted how many days since the basket was empty, and then divided it by the number of children in our home — which lead to an important discovery:

We had become trapped in the bathroom after our pile of clothes fell against the door.

While it’s true we have four children between us, according to my calculations they are changing their clothes every 18 minutes. This includes through the night, when they apparently take turns changing EACH OTHER while sleeping in shifts. This would explain how they can have a closet full of clothes at bedtime, then wake up and have nothing to wear. It would also explain why their bed sheets are always untucked and strewn on the floor by morning; they are using the sheets to drag each other’s sleeping bodies back and forth to the closet. Continue reading Apparently, the laws of physics don’t apply to our family’s laundry basket

Inflatable church could have couples bouncing off the walls

100_0347 The creation of the inflatable church is without question, from a man’s perspective, the most exciting matrimonial advancement since the bachelor party because it means the fun no longer has to end the night before the wedding, somewhere in the general vicinity of a commode. That’s right, the excitement can continue the next day as the groom, flanked by his best man, bounces to the alter in his tube socks to await his blushing bride.

Because a fellow journalist friend and her sister are very close, and because I know how important it is that everything be perfect, I enthusiastically suggested the idea of an inflatable church for her sister’s wedding.

And because she knew I was really trying to help, she smiled and told me I had an inflatable head. Continue reading Inflatable church could have couples bouncing off the walls

Only REAL men can iron clothes at 3,000 feet

Today’s entry for Flashback Sunday was originally inspired by my need to reclaim my masculinity from somewhere beneath the growing pile of ironing in our home. Being that this falls under my umbrella of responsibilities, it was necessary to make it as dangerous — and therefore manly — as possible. You can be the judge as to whether it was Mission Accomplished or Mission Impossible…

To prepare for the 2013 Extreme Ironing Championships, I have begun training at the Eugene Airport. My cardio and resting heart rate have improved dramatically thanks to my running partners at airport security!
I have reached the conclusion that most of the world’s ironing is now being done by men. I say this because it’s the only explanation I have for a sport called “extreme” ironing, which is actually being lobbied as an Olympic event by “ironing enthusiasts” — a phrase referred to in the Bible as a sign of the coming apocalypse.

“And four horsemen will come from the sky. And they will lay waste to the land, but not before having their robes pressed by ironing enthusiasts.”

It’s easy to understand how extreme ironing evolved if you keep in mind this simple truth about the male species:

Given enough time, any man performing a mundane task will find a way to hurt himself.

And if you can hurt yourself doing it, then it’s practically a sport already. Sure, bowling and golf may appear to be exceptions to this rule. But ask anyone who has ever jammed their finger in the ball return, or inadvertently left a tee in their back pocket, and they’ll tell you there is plenty of danger involved. Continue reading Only REAL men can iron clothes at 3,000 feet

Pack your luggage; it’s time to get the dog neutered

Because it’s Easter, I chose a special selection for this week’s Flashback Sunday, which is a post that has never appeared on this blog. I chose it because 1) it fits the “flashback” criteria of a writing from my past, 2) many of you have asked about the connection between getting my dog neutered and my own vasectomy mentioned in a recent post, and 3) Easter is about rebirth in many cultures, so this subject seemed somewhat fitting…

Time to get the dog neutered It was a foregone conclusion that we would have our dog Stanley neutered once he was old enough. Just like it was a foregone conclusion that, when it came time to deliver him into the hands of the vet, I would be playing the role of Judas. I thought about disguising myself and borrowing someone else’s car so that Stanley would not associate me with his loss of malehood. My ex-wife told me I was being silly.

He’s a dog, she reminded me, and capable of recognizing my scent no matter how I was dressed.

It didn’t help the situation that my four-year-old son, after overhearing our conversation, had reached the conclusion that something serious was happening, and that it involved — but wasn’t limited to — Stanley turning into a girl and biting daddy. Continue reading Pack your luggage; it’s time to get the dog neutered

Save water: Fix that leaky light switch

I fixed the light switch (Note: Welcome to Flashback Sunday! A weekly post of past columns from my early days on WordPress, before I realized that “Freshly Pressed” wasn’t a dry-cleaning blog.)

The great thing about shows like Extreme Home Makeover is that they inspire ideas on how to improve your home. The bad news is that people like me then try to implement these ideas without the benefit of a trained professional. The result is our bathroom, which currently has a commode with hot running water and a wall heater that can only be turned on by unscrewing the third bulb in our vanity mirror.

I’d like to point out it wasn’t my idea to take what had been a simple plan to increase the space in our bathroom and turn it into a major remodel. However, after one teeny mistake, my family insisted on a total makeover — which brings us to our first home improvement tip: The Importance of Bearing Walls. Continue reading Save water: Fix that leaky light switch

Spring officially starts once you’ve mowed over your hibachi

Tall grass and hibachi The official start of spring is almost here. I know this because I received a Sears catalogue depicting what appears to be an all-American family taking time off from its busy modeling schedule to cook hamburgers on a brand new stainless steel grill large enough to accommodate an entire side of bull elk. As you would expect, children were in the yard squirting each other with water toys and running barefoot over a perfectly manicured lawn which, judging from the size of the family dog, must be self-cleaning.

Mom was nearby, well oiled and laying on a lawn chair in her bathing suit, still recovering from her recent Victoria’s Secret lingerie shoot in the Bahamas.

Around the Hickson household, spring starts out a little differently. I was reminded of this yesterday as I stood in our back yard, waist-deep in weeds, swatting at a mosquito with a rusty spatula and trying to remember the last time I saw our hibachi. Each year, I promise myself I won’t begin the spring by embarrassing our entire family.

And each year, a search and rescue team finds me whimpering somewhere in our back yard, surrounded by weeds, laying in a fetal position next to our lawn mower. Continue reading Spring officially starts once you’ve mowed over your hibachi

Need help deciding on a vasectomy? Don’t ask a man

Hammer and eggs There’s a scene in the movie “Jaws” where the Mayor of Amity Island explains how yelling the word “BARRACUDA” won’t get much reaction on a crowded beach. “But if you yell ‘SHARK’ you’ll have a panic on your hands…”

Keeping that in mind, you’ll have some idea of the reaction you get from most men if you change “shark” to “vasectomy.” This was the first word out of my radio this morning. And yes, it caught my attention. Apparently, March is the busiest month for vasectomies — and tomorrow is the busiest day of the year for this procedure.

Maybe it’s a result of March Madness compromises reached between husbands and wives, or a subconscious tribute to the start of baseball season. Whatever the reason, when I had mine 10 years ago, it was also in March. The decision had nothing to do with basketball or baseball, and everything to do with weeks of campaigning from my ex-wife.

Because she had a degree in social work, my ex-wife was trained on how to approach sensitive subject matter. That’s why I was allowed to discover, with no pressure from her whatsoever, that my new place mat at the dinner table was actually a medical brochure titled:

So, You Want To Have a Vasectomy?

True, we had talked about this subject before. Continue reading Need help deciding on a vasectomy? Don’t ask a man