Don't call me... I'm dead

Since I was in middle school, I've heard people say that the three most expensive things one does in life are being born, getting married, and dying. (I reckon the people who have said that have never been divorced. But I digress.) I suppose the good part is that, if you're lucky, someone else often pays for those things. Still, it seems to me that dying is enough of a pain for you and those who have to deal with it. It shouldn't be expensive to boot. But apparently there is now a reason it might be just a little more expensive: the Direct Marketing Association is now maintaining a Deceased Do-Not-Contact list. You can put your dearly departed loved ones on it for only $1. Can you think of a reason not to just shut off their phone and close their email accounts?

Thoughts From the Road

My most recent weekend stretched out quite a bit. I went to Indy, ostensibly to celebrate my dad's 60th birthday. While I was there, I decided to celebrate my 31st birthday as well. I drank in Chicago, grilled out in Indy, played golf in Bloomington, visited high school friends in Zionsville, played golf in Indy, assembled furniture, and even read the new Harry Potter book. It was a pretty full five days. Here are a few things I noticed while I was there:

• One can see a wide variety of people at the midnight release of the Harry Potter book. Every teenager in the world was there, from the cool kids to the geeks. A lot of parents took their 8 - 13 year-olds to get the new book. Some of the kids wore robes and uniforms and such. The place was a zoo, but the people watching was phenomenal. The prize of the night, though, had to go to the adults who dressed in full costume. At least the stormtrooper costumes they wear to the premiers of Star Wars movies hide their faces. They might have been the ugliest people I've ever seen.
  
• The roads in Indiana are incredibly straight and flat. This isn't really news, but it was the first time I'd done much driving there in quite a while. After spending a lot of time driving the East Coast (Virginia, in particular), it was impressive. While driving to Chicago, I wanted to set the cruise, tie a rope to the wheel and crawl in the back for a little nap. It seemed like it might work.
• Cell phones are pretty sweet. How did we ever meet up with people before we had them? I think we actually had to plan to be in a certain place at a certain time. It's nice to just park the car and start walking and have the people you're meeting vector you in.
• A friend you haven't seen in a while runs up to you with a big smile on her face and jumps to give you a big hug. There's nothing quite like it, really. Of course, she might be more inclined to do so when she's drunk and it's your birthday, but it's pretty cool anyway.
• I never thought a person could seem much younger and much older than his actual age at the same time. But my dad does.
  
• Hanging with old friends can be like putting on your favorite pair of shoes. You don't have to cram your foot in or worry about blisters or discomfort. They just fit.
• Golf in the Heartland is just as fun as anywhere else.
• My favorite exchange from the weekend:
  

  Mama Abs [after getting up from dinner to answer the phone] God damn! That was a fundraiser. I can't believe they called on Sunday.
  Larry [from in the dining room]: Who was it?
  Mama Abs: The Leukemia society.
  Larry: Tell 'em we already have cancer. We don't want any of that Leukemia shit.
  

I told you I look younger

I told you I look distinctly younger without the goatee than I did with it, and I've had a lot of people clamoring for me to post a picture to prove it. I have explained why I didn't do that originally, but I've finally come up with a pic that represents me pretty well. It's truly amazing to me how much younger shaving the goatee made me look. See for yourselves:

A Word of Etiquette

I don't want to be overly focused on toilets, commodes, or other latrine-related issues, but I do have two words that I just have to say. I realize that you are all very considerate, conscientious people who don't really need to hear this, but I find myself having to get these two words off my chest. I believe these two words, when put into action, can make the workplace -- nay, the world -- a much better place: courtesy flush.

My Girlfriend

I know many of you reading this will already be having one of two possible reactions to the title of this post:

1. "Abs has a girlfriend?! I didn't know that. I want to hear this!"
   
2. "Abs has a girlfriend?! Yeah right. I want to hear this."

So similar yet so different are those two reactions. It's possible you might even be having a little of both of those reactions, i.e. serious curiosity doped with some heavy skepticism. While I understand both reactions, it's definitely true. My significant other is a little non-traditional, but it's pretty much the same sort of story everyone has.

When we first met, we were unsure of each other. Neither of us was really willing to embrace the other. We flirted a little, offering each other blushing smiles and tiny, awkward glimpses of what might be. It was probably good that we didn't rush into things, too. We only saw a little of each other in the beginning, then ramped things up. It took a while, but things eventually really got rolling and it's been quite a journey since then. I've even thought about this relationship from more of a long-term standpoint than I have any of my previous ones, and it's really amazing to me how much the relationship has grown over time.

In a lot of ways, our relationship is like almost any other. Sure, I spend money on her, and she takes up a lot of my time, but there's no question that I truly enjoy being with her. Of course, she can be maddening and incredibly frustrating at times, and I can't possibly claim to understand her. However, maybe those rough spots really just make things better overall. Plus, it's safe to say that I have really gotten to know her, even if I don't quite understand her. Despite the moments of frustration, irritation, and even downright fury that she inspires, she provides just as many moments that are truly sublime -- small but powerful instants of pure, sweet, unadulterated joy that leave me grinning like the Cheshire Abs.

We definitely have our rough spots, but we work through them. Maybe it's that effort that we put in that really makes it rewarding. There's no question that the more I work at it, the better things seem to go. Maybe there really is something to the idea that a good relationship is a work in progress. I have definitely learned ways to coax out more of those moments of bliss, and I have also learned to do fewer dumb things. Sadly, it seems like the dumb things I do these days are a lot worse than those I used to do, but at least there are fewer of them.

Maybe the best thing I can say about the relationship is that I think about her a lot, and when I'm not with her, I wish I was. I've been a bit embarrassed to admit that, but no longer.

It's a pretty standard story as far as relationships go, don't you think? Still, there is that non-traditional aspect to it that some might frown on. I think, though, that we are a bit more tolerant of alternative lifestyles in this new millenium, and I definitely think that all of you can handle it. So I won't be ashamed to tell you about it any more: golf is my girlfriend.

I'm a Tool: Redux

I know, I know. When one watches a movie, he's supposed to buy into the whole "suspension of disbelief" thing. I know that is especially true when the movie is about aliens and spaceships and things that generally happened a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away. One also shouldn't concentrate too hard on the book a movie is based on, because it also can ruin the "suspension of disbelief."

But sometimes I just can't help it.

For instance, in the Year of the Rollover they made a movie out of the venerable Dr. Seuss's How the Grinch Stole Christmas. Jim Carrey did his face-contorting best to carry that movie to success, and a lot of people liked it. I was not one of those people. The movie centers around some almost existential angst Cindy Lou Who is having about the real meaning of Christmas. I can certainly understand how one might be confused about that, considering all the commercialization of the holiday (which is to say nothing of the uneasiness created by my stalwart agnosticism). I can even see how that feeling might trickle down to a pre-teen. However, the thing that gets me, that sticks in my craw, that really chaps my ass when it comes to this movie is that the book (and the original cartoon movie with the brilliant song) clearly and repeatedly says that Cindy Lou Who is without question waaayyyyy too young for this type of thing: "Cindy Lou Who (who was NO MORE THAN TWO)." [emphasis added] I don't know of any toddler outside of Stewie on The Family Guy who could pull that off. It's total bollux! There's no excuse for it.

Now back to that galaxy far, far away. The truth is that the engineer in me rears its ugly head from time to time during movies, pointing out that there's no way this could happen or that would break that way or that could possibly withstand that beating. It's disturbing because it comes from within and there's nothing I can do to stop it. (Although I have this bizarre vision of some beatnik artist in a beret trying to cure me by spritzing me with wine and chanting "The power of Picasso compels you!" But I digress.) Misery really does love company, though, as I feel at least a tiny bit better because this guy had the same thought I did about living on Coruscant. I would be staying the hell off of those balconies. Considering how high up they are, the wind must be incredible. Still, it's a sad day when OSHA-like thoughts enter your head to perturb your enjoyment of a movie.

Before you ask, yes, it has been a slow day at work. If you need me, I'll be stewing about how Elisabeth Shue's character in the colossally bad The Saint figured out cold fusion in "about 4 hours."

Shoot the Hostage

Talking with a friend this weekend, we had our own little version of the pop quiz from Speed. You know the one:

Harry: All right, pop quiz. Airport. Gunman with one hostage. He's using her for cover; he's almost to a plane. You're a hundred feet away. What do you do, Jack?
Jack: Shoot the hostage.

I thought that was a somewhat clever, if not very subtle, solution to the problem. And that was kind of the point. Little did Harry know that he would be the hostage getting the lead salad shortly thereafter. There's a word for that. Fore ... something. You know what I mean.

But I'm not here to talk about literary/film techniques or lead salads or even ludicrous plotlines in action movies. I'm here to talk about the pop quiz. The scenario we came up with was this: You're having a party. Very early (earlier than you would like) a girl you've been out with a few times in last couple of months shows up. After a while, as the party's getting ramped up, a girl you used to date who is borderline unbalanced (to the point where she has been known to hurl footwear) and none too big a fan of yours shows up to alternately ignore you and glower at you for the rest of the night. Finally, when the party is at its peak, your most recent ex-girlfriend shows up. She dumped you somewhat unceremoniously, but she still emails you quite regularly and calls you from time-to-time. She's not so balanced, either, but you don't know that. You are, naturally, still hung up on this girl. You find yourself repeatedly saying, "Damn. How are all three of those chicks going to be here at the same time?!"

What do you do?

My first answer was that you should get absolutely polluted and pretty much ignore them all, thus further irritating the one who hates you and endearing you to the other two.

I'm starting to think that it might be better -- or at least funnier -- to get absolutely polluted, gather them all together, and start making comparative comments about them. They're clearly no good for you, anyway. Might as well have some fun with it.

What do you do?