If at First You Don't Succeed ...

I think you're supposed to try again. That worked for me. Heading back to the polls around 2:30 or 3:00 seemed to be the ticket. There were no lines visible outside the building (at least not for my section of the alphabet), and I had to wait behind only about 3 people. The whole process only took about 10 minutes this time around.

Given the whole hassle with the lines, I'd be all for a completely mail-enabled kind of voting process, but there are some decent arguments against that I hadn't considered. Either way, I hope you managed to do all the voting you wanted (and were legally allowed to do) in this election with a minimum of pain.

Swing and a Miss

So I went out this morning to take part in this representative government of ours by voting. The community center in our neighborhood is our polling place, and I figured I'd swing by the store to grab a morning soda then saunter up to a by-then-diminished line and put my vote in before heading to work. However, maybe other people had the same plan as I -- I don't know, I couldn't see if they had sodas -- and the line was stretched around the corner. So I drove right on to my office.

All these lines are kind of frustrating, although I suppose it's an indication of voter interest. But I'll go back armed with the AbsPod and some other things to entertain myself this afternoon, even though I often argue that your vote doesn't count in the presidential election, both from a purely lottery-like mathematical standpoint and because of the electoral college.

Bah. I hope your voting experience is line- and stress-free.

An Old Campaign

Back in the day, I had a catchphrase, a mantra, a slogan ... whatever you want to call it. I didn't really mean for it to be so prominent, but it just worked out that way. It would always come up in response to someone commenting on me in one way or another. They might tell me I was nice (grr), or mean, or ugly, or funny, or smart, or cute, or fat, or scrum-dilly-umptious, or whatever they opted to call me. My response came out automatically after a while: "I'm just Abs."

I thought it was a simple and effective response. I was just me. That was all I could be. Typically, the commenter would smile at that and go on about his or her business, now secure in the knowledge that whatever else I might appear to be, I was just me. This wasn't some Walt Whitman-esque yawping, mind you; it was just my way of turning aside comments that I didn't otherwise quite know what to do with. Instead of coming up with something relevant and appropriately clever, I would just aver my total yet simple Absness.

After a while people got used to it. Some of them would try to apply the phrase for me, but they would almost never get it quite right. Something was missing. They would either address me as "Just Abs," as in "Hello, Just Abs." Maybe that was because they weren't Abs, and they couldn't possibly be expected to get it right while lacking that certain thing the French call ... "I don't know what." Still, in general that automatic response became part of the fabric of my interaction with a lot of people.

After a while, though, Lawton and the Pretty Boy staged a mini-intervention. "You need a new campaign. That one is not working." I'm confident it was the Pretty Boy who made this statement. Methinks the Pretty Boy is very big on what is and isn't working. Recall that he lobbied for me to shave off the goatee, claiming that it wasn't working. In the face of this particular claim of his, I thought, "First of all, it's not a damned campaign! It's just something I say." I decided to say that out loud, but Lawton, who typically likes nothing more than to wind me up, was prepared for that objection. "No. It's a campaign," he said, almost before I had finished my argument.

I might have argued with them for a little while before giving it up as a lost cause that I didn't particularly care about, especially when there was beer around that was significantly more interesting. As is often their wont, those two guys kept going in some sort of bizarre positive feedback loop, and they talked about it for quite a while.

Over time they came back at me quite often about needing a new "campaign." And their arguments were either effective or I proved highly suggestible or something else, because I eventually stopped saying it. I never stopped really being just Abs, though, even if I stopped pointing the fact out to everyone who needed to be reminded. The truth is that I remain Abs -- and just Abs -- to this day.

Why do I tell you all of this? It's because of a video Lawton sent to me recently. Now that all of the presidential debates are over, mayhap I can add a wrinkle. Even though, as is always the case, the author of this article didn't quite get the gist, I'm willing to say that I'm just Abs, and I approve of this message.

Spreading the Word

I've been contending for a long, long time that March Madness is the Most Wonderful Time of the Year, and now I'm hearing the same thing from more and more people.  That's not to say that I came up with the idea or that you heard it here first or anything.  The point is that it's a natural way for hoops and sports lovers to think about the Big Dance. But if you want some serious evidence that the concept is widely adopted, check this out. Even Google is talking about it that way. I don't really use iGoogle, but I would be all about that gadget if I did. Plus, I know a few people whose companies block all sports Internet sites.  I'm thinking this might be a nice way to keep tabs on the tourney from inside one of those Mordac-run shops, because I don't think even they would block Google.  Of course, if you treat the first two days of the tournament as religious holidays and take time off every year, it's a non-issue, but that's not practical for everyone, either.  Either way, I like more ways to keep tabs on the Tourney, and I hope you are as psyched for the Madness as I am.

The Season of Not Giving

My family has operated Christmas based on lists for as long as I can remember. If you wanted gifts, you had to make a list. And having those lists was huge for my brother and me, given that we almost never did any Christmas shopping. We always did Christmas buying, and we always did it on or around the 21st - 23rd of December, as that was when we arrived in Indy from our more coastally located homes. (It's really kind of impressive. We're machines when we do that.) Over the years, though, we've had more and more trouble coming up with lists. Part of it is that we don't think we need much stuff. Part is that I went through a traumatic experience when moving out of a house I lived in for 6 years and ended up throwing away enough stuff to fill a small apartment, and, as a result, I try to be somewhat resistant to stuff accumulation. And part is that these days, for the most part, when we want something, we just buy it.

So this year we kind of suggested that our folks not bother getting us Christmas presents. We weren't really lacking for stuff, and it seemed kind of silly for anyone to buy us things that we didn't really want or need. Due in part to some other circumstances, our folks pretty much agreed. There were a couple of gifts that had already been purchased before we negotiated the cease fire, but we really didn't do much gift giving. And that was fine. Really, it would be nice to just get together and relax and enjoy each other's company until we drove each other nuts and then go home.

Now we didn't intend this cessation of gift giving (which was really motivated by a desire to avoid gift receiving, but you can't have one and not the other) to be a far-reaching thing. In fact, before I departed for Indy, I saw that my company was collecting money to give to a local homeless shelter, and I gave the cash in my wallet one afternoon. It wasn't a big deal or anything, and it's certainly not something I should pat myself on the back about. It was just one of those, "Oh. Here you go," kinds of things. So why am I bringing it up, you ask? Good question.

The reason I'm bringing it up is that I got a call from the receptionist today saying that she had some money for me. I thought that was odd, but I'm not inclined to argue when someone randomly says she wants to give me money, so I went up there to collect it. [Notice how I've avoided all tasteless jokes about how certain females had better have my money at certain times lest they experince unpleasantness. The thought never even crossed my mind. Are you proud or disappointed?] It turns out that something hadn't worked with giving the money to the homeless shelter while I was gone, and they were just returning my donation. I guess that non-gift giving thing extended farther than I expected or intended.

I hope you got everything you wanted for Christmas this year, even if it was nothing.

I Sit Resolved

Well, what the hell ... I'll go ahead and stand resolved, although that sounds like a lot of work. Besides, it fits better with the year ahead (more on that later).

While I haven't yet written a by-the-numbers (or any other) type of look back at 2006 (but I likely will), I wanted to go ahead and talk about 2007. As I've mentioned before, in general, I'm against making resolutions to start the new year. Maybe it's because everyone does it, and I think I'm unique and counter-cultural and such (says the Kid in his friggin' blog). Maybe it's because it's exhausting to hear people talk about them. Maybe it's because it's harder to fail to live to up to resolutions you don't make. Maybe it's because I think they're for namby-pamby, touchy-feely types who decide they're going to be funnier (they aren't) or happier (it's a 50-50 shot) or smarter (no chance) or better to the environment (possibly). (Remind me to tell you more about that environment one another time.) But maybe, just maybe my real issue here is with the connotation I've attached to the word "resolution." So I've decided to not make any resolutions for 2007.

I can make some goals, though. That would clearly be a very different thing. Goals are good, right? Everyone needs goals. So without more of this nomadic preamble, I present to you Abs's Major Initiatives 2007.

Because, dammit!
This cleverly-named initiative could more clearly be called "Procrastinate Less," But I like cleverly-named things, and "Be Less Annoyingly Snarky and Obtuse" didn't make the cut this year. The truth is that the ability to procrastinate runs strong in my family. My granny had it. (Perhaps that's the real reason that her ashes are still attending Christmas gatherings.) My father has it. My mother has it. My brother has it. And I have it.

In college, a couple of guys in my dorm and I considered ourselves to be the Pillars of the Dorm Procrastination Team. Any one of the three who actually tried to study was absolutely ridiculed by the other two. Twisting the Nike catch phrase of the day, our slogan was "Why Do It?" Amazingly, we all managed to stick around and graduate, but we never stopped mildly reveling in our tendency and ability to put things off. And that's fine, but I'm hoping to do it less this year.

In case you're wondering whether I see the irony in stating my goal to procrastinate less this year at the beginning of the second month of the year, I do. And I think you should shut the hell up about it. First, this isn't your post. More importantly, I said I was going to do it less, not eliminate it entirely.

More than anything, though, I think this goal feeds directly into the second initiative ...

Clean Apartment 2007
My apartment is generally a mess. It's not a crazy mess that you can't walk through or see table tops or get attacked by mutant killer bacteria or anything, but it is generally cluttered and just messy. I honestly like the apartment better when it's clean, but I don't at all like cleaning it. Really, it's just that I put off things like putting away clean clothes, putting books back on the shelves, putting dirty clothes in the laundry nook, taking the trash or recycling out, dealing with my mail, and generally getting rid of the dead bodies. So you see that procrastination plays a big part here. Really, I'm thinking the "Because, dammit!" initiative will mostly take care of this one. That way, I get two goals for the price of one, and that's just good sense.

Neither of these really have much to do with the third and most important initiative ...

Find a Better Hiding Place
No, I don't have a bunch of jam-handed, ankle-biting youngsters around who are better at playing Hide and Seek than I am. This is another obscurely but perhaps cleverly named initiative. The one I'm playing Hide and Seek with is Death. He's "it," though.

The key here is to be healthier. My family tree shows many a wound from heart attacks and strokes and diabetes and loquacity. (At least it would if someone put together my family tree. And if family trees had wounds from the entrants' health and other problems.) Since I'm not likely to do anything about the wordiness, I thought I'd concentrate more on the health problems. At this point, I haven't really suffered from anything worse than some allergies and bad ankles, but I reckon I have to try to get out of the way of those more major issues now rather than when they come knocking on the door because they keep you from finding good hiding places. Having one of those things is akin to hiding in the middle of a brightly lit room. That robe-wearin', scythe-carryin' bitch called Death has no trouble at all finding those types of people. I reckon being healthier helps one find a better hiding place.

If you want a more entertaining explanation of the reasoning behind such an initiative, take a gander at Kevin Smith's blog. I share several of his reasons, and he writes them better. Besides, Silent Bob speaking is a good thing.

How do I plan on being healthier? By the magic plan of eating things I don't love and doing things I'd rather not do. Don't eat pizza or chips and queso quite as often. Eat some damned vegatables. Get off the couch and go to the gym once in a while. Eat better and exercise more. I heard somewhere that it's good for you.

Still, that's a bunch of hand waving. In this particular case, I need to be able to quantify things. So, recognizing that this ought to be a long-haul type of goal, I'm setting the relatively modest aim of weighing 10% less than I do now on December 31, 2007. Really, it's 10% less than when I actively started this initiative, which was two whole days ago, but you get the idea. I don't know if that sounds like a lot to you, but I think it's pretty daggone modest when you look at what some people do.

That's about it. I could have come up with more, but I think that I have quite enough to be going on with this year. Besides, I can do those others next year.

A Bizarro Rockwell X-mas

Maybe for you, like for the people who make Hallmark commercials, the idea of Christmas conjures Norman Rockwell-ish images of families cozily gathered around the warm glow of a fire, rosy-faced and gazing at each other fondly with the twinkle of lights on the tree behind them, with Sister carefully opening a present while Brother, Mom, Dad, and Grandma all watch in eager anticipation. Doesn’t that just sound like Christmas to you?

It doesn’t to me. I think more of people doing 85 different things at once, telling off-color jokes and making fun of each other in a way that typically escalates into some enthusiastic expectorations of, “Sheeeeeeiiiiiiitttttt,” or, “Well, now, goddammit…” Don’t get the wrong idea. People aren’t being mean or evil, and it’s not like the kind of stuff you see on Cops: Naughty or Nice. It’s all in good fun, and everyone laughs a lot. We just generally have somewhat skewed senses of humor. For example, my mom gets a kick out of involving Granny in different things. She’s always telling me how she “took Mother to Texas” or “took your granny for a boat ride” or something like that. I know that doesn’t sound all that odd at first, but the thing is that my granny is dead. So Mom is really talking about doing those things with Granny’s ashes. Weird, huh? I think so, but it’s weird in a creepy but funny sort of way. And Mama Abs refuses to believe that it’s even a little bit creepy. People who aren’t amused by it clearly don’t have senses of humor, according to her. However, I think it’s kind of a tired joke at this point because Granny died 10 and a half years ago, and they’ve been carting those ashes around ever since. (My uncle once put the ashes on a bar at the Elks lodge where Granny used to hang out and asked random people there, "You wanna buy my mother a drink?") Making it even weirder is that it’s really just half of Granny’s ashes doing these things at this point, as the other half have been buried or scattered or something. Sometimes, Mom will even “put Mother under the Christmas tree” (the ashes are in a goldish box with a ribbon on it). Sigh. I guess Granny did always like Christmas. All that is by way of explaining that I think it’s safe to say that Mr. Rockwell didn’t spend any time at my folks’ house at Christmas time. Or if he did, he sure as hell didn’t paint pictures about it.

Take this Christmas, for example. Instead of a traditional gift exchange, we decided to try a Yankee Swap type of thing with my step-dad’s family. The short explanation is that everyone brings a gift and puts it under the tree. Then everyone draws a number. The person with number 1 chooses and unwraps a gift from under the tree, then the person with number 2 can either take number 1’s present causing number 1 to pick and unwrap a new present, or number 2 picks and unwraps a new present. Et cetera. I’ve tried this with lots of different groups, and they often don’t get into the spirit of the thing, which can be summed up in one word: "MINE!". These folks who don't get into the proper spirit think it’s “mean” to “steal” someone else’s present, so it ends up being just a gift drawing. Booooorrrrriiiiinnnnnggggg. I knew that this family group would have no trouble with those types of hang-ups, and it would be a good time. I wasn’t disappointed.

There were some growing pains as people got into the flow of this kind of gift exchange. I got hosed by drawing number 2, so I didn’t expect to end up with a good present. What I unwrapped when it was my turn was a handful of little glass things that Mom told everyone were “salt dips.” I don’t know what that means, and I don’t want to, but the kicker was that these glass thingies were once my step-dad’s mom’s property, thus making them heirlooms, I guess. Having heard that, I thought there was a good chance that someone would steal them from me or at least give me something more interesting for them afterwards like, say, a pack of matches.

After I unwrapped the glass dip thingies, Mom was explaining to everyone (about 15 people) what they were and where they came from. As that explanation wound down, my step-dad’s grandson’s fiancée (or should I say my step-sister’s son’s fiancée? how about step-nephew’s fiancée? whatever, you get the idea), who is a nice, sweet girl who recently graduated with a degree in Mortuary Science – no, I am not making this up – decided to move things along and grabbed a gift to open. Not many people noticed, though, as there was a general hubbub about the dip thingies and who wanted them (not me) and how there were other family heirlooms to consider among the gifts under the tree. However, the to-be-step-niece-in-law got everyone’s attention by holding her newly unwrapped gift – a bag of some indeterminate material – aloft, patting it, and asking, “What is this? Is this a joke?” Everyone in the room looked confused as they tried to figure out what it was. Apparently, it was a joke, as evidenced by my brother and I nearly collapsing in fits of laughter when we realized what it was. Then, Mama Abs started laughing. The to-be-wife-of-my-step-dad’s-grandson wanted to know what we were laughing at, but we couldn’t tell her just then, due to all the laughing we had to do.

Finally, gasping and stuttering in between guffaws, I said, “Those. Are. My grandmother’s. Ashes. Half of them anyway.”

Hilarity ensued from there, and I imagine a weird and possibly creepy family tradition was born. And why not? Granny always did like Christmas.

To her credit the girl in question laughed about it, too. And, yes, she was allowed to grab another gift. And, no, I didn’t get stuck with the glass salt things. I got a DVD. So everybody won.

Can you imagine that in a Norman Rockwell painting?

Me neither.

Monday Night Chronicles

I'm doing something I almost never do: I'm watching Monday Night Football in real time. I'm doing that because it's the Colts vs. the Bengals, and they are my two favorite teams. Happily, the Colts have stepped out to a 10-3 lead, but there's still a lot of time left to play. That said, watching in real time (rather than DVR-delayed) shows me just how annoying the eleventy-seven commercials an hour on MNF are. (Blast! Former Wahoo Terrence Wilkins just muffed a punt to give the Bengals excellent field position after a 3 and out.)

Luckily for me, I have the Chronicles to take up that commercial time. Keeping with the holiday spirit theme we established last time out, I'm going to share a video that Lawton sent to me. It's the Scrubs cast doing voice-overs of A Charlie Brown Christmas, and it's good times. Enjoy. (And now the Bengals have tied it up. Dammit, Terrence!)

We Got Spirit, Yes We Do

I like Commercialmas as much as the next guy. At least, provided that the next guy is another guy who kind of likes the season but isn't crazy-gung-ho about it and definitely doesn't think carols and such should be heard until December. Once December rolls around, I'm fine with it, but my desire to never decorate (much less to put up temporary decorations that will require effort to take down in the near future) is often misconstrued as a general bah-humbugness. The midnight, December 1st (an not a minute earlier) was a rule that a college roomie and I imposed on an overly (from our perspective) enthusiastic third roomie back in the day, and it has always stuck with me. For that reason, unlike Jen, I don't load Christmas tunes on the AbsPod. But I digress.

Just to show you that I'm not really all Scrooged up, I will share something with you. The other night, the Girl came over having heard a song that was "just so ridiculously cute" that she wanted to hear it more and more. In fact, she was a little irked that she didn't grow up hearing that song all the time. A little Googling found it for me, and I have to admit that 1) I had also never heard it before and 2) on the cute scale, it registers somewhere around ridiculous. So for your listening (and perhaps list-making) and spirit-imbuing pleasure, I give you this song (despite the possible lack of research by the singer)

Merry Christmas. I wish peace, mirth, joy, and (tame, pleasant) hippos for all.

Help or Hindrance?

Don posed an interesting question in the comments to my last post about my 2005 numbers. His question was whether shaving my goatee was a help or hindrance in achieving 2005's goals. It's a good question, but I'm not sure I can give a good answer. As far as breaking 90 goes, I think it's safe to say that my facial hair (or lack thereof) had little to no impact. Whether it influenced my ability to go on two dates with the same person is less clear. [Aside: I had to go back and edit the dating numbers. There is one girl whom I completely left out of the tabulation. However, it's really hard to be sure whether get-togethers with her were dates. So I counted them as half dates.] I've mentioned before that a certain Pretty Boy buddy of mine had lobbied for the goat exorcism long before I shaved it off. I also mentioned that he thought the sequence of events that occurred afterwards validated his claims.

In truth, there is some circumstantial evidence supporting his claim, starting with a surprise encounter with a smooth girl. Later, there was a girl who attempted to force her number on me in an attempt to strong-arm me into asking her out. Granted, that girl was annoying (but not the most annoying girl ever), but nothing like that ever happened when I had the goat. Then, there was the goal-achieving two dates. Finally -- and this is a confession for me, as I described this in the third person at the time -- there was the so-unsmooth-it's-smooth digit getting that actually resulted in 2+ more dates. You may be asking how this is circumstantial evidence. It's because while none of those happenings is a clear result of the removal of the goatee, none had happened while I had it. Heck, I hadn't been on two dates with the same person since ... let's just say it was a long time ago.

I'm afraid I can't give a lot of satisfaction on this question. But I think it's safe to say that the removal of the goatee didn't hurt me in the pursuit of my '05 goals. The debate as to whether I look better with or without the goat still rages, though. For the Pretty Boy (I know you're out there), don't think that because you may have been right in this case that I'm going to start wearing pink (no, salmon is not a color) silky shirts and product in my hair. Not gonna happen. Keep your potential gloating to yourself. But, if you were right -- and I'm not saying you were -- thanks.

2005 by the Numbers

Back at the beginning of the year, I threatened to write a post looking back at 2005. Well, now I'm delivering on that threat. I don't make a lot of new year's resolutions that I'm not going to keep. And I'm not big into setting a lot of goals. However, I did have two very specific goals for 2005: to break 90 on the golf course and to go on two dates with the same person. Some of you might think those are ridiculous goals, that I shouldn't be focused on golf, that there is NO WAY that any self-respecting girl would go out with me two times. And I thought of those things, too. But I set those as goals anyway. Besides, my goals didn't require that the girl have any self-respect.

With that rambling preamble out of the way, let's go to the numbers. First, the numbers related to

Golf
18-Hole Rounds (without losing my scorecard): 29
Lost Scorecards: 2
Scrambles: 3
9-Hole Rounds: More than 0, less than 15
[The following numbers are from my 29 18-Hole Rounds whose scorecards I didn't lose.]
Scores At or Over 100: 12
Scores Below 100: 17
Scores Below 95: 6
Scores Below 90: 1
Rounds That Would Have Been Below 90 if I Hadn't Inexplicably Carded an 8 on a Par 3: 1
Total Holes: 522
Bogeys: 165
Pars: 94
Birdies: 12
Eagles: 1
Greens in Regulation: 104
Putts: 1046

So I clearly met my first goal. In fact, I did it on July 28th. Sadly, I haven't done it since, but that doesn't in any way diminish the glory of having achieved that milestone. I know some of you don't give a rip about those numbers, but I have called golf my girlfriend before. So you'll just have to deal.

Knowing who often reads this blog, I'm sure that more of you will be interested in the numbers related to

Weddings
Weddings Attended: 2
Weddings in which I Was Part of the Wedding Party: 0
Wedding Gifts Bought: 1 [I'm still on the hook for the other]
Single Women Danced With: ~7
Married Women Danced With: ~15
People Impressed With My Dancing: ~50
People Disturbed By the Amount of Sweat Produced by Said Dancing: ~200
Hook-Ups Resulting from Impressive Dancing, Alcohol, and Alleged General Aphrodisiac Nature of Weddings: 0

Finally, what you've all been waiting for ... the numbers related to

Women/Dating
Phone Numbers Requested: 2
Phone Numbers Received: 3
Phone Numbers Forced Upon Me Even Though I Didn't Want Them: 1
Phone Numbers Called: 2
Girls Who Impressed Me With Their Smoothness: 1
Girls Asked Out: 4
Girls Who Laughed Upon Being Asked Out: 1
Girls Who Said "Maybe" in Response to Being Asked Out When They Really Meant "No:" 1
Girls Who Asked Me Out: 1
First Dates: 2.5 [It's arguable whether one was a date.]
Second Dates: 2.5 [Same business.]
Second Dates That Probably Shouldn't Have Happened, But I Did After All Have a Goal to Meet: 1
Third Dates: 1

There you have it. Those are the major numbers from 2005 for The Kid. For you scoffers out there, how ya like me now? I met both goals for 2005. In fact, I had them in the bag by July 28th. I considered just taking the rest of the year off, but I couldn't manage it. Besides, I wasn't quite sure how to make that happen. The suspended animation thing doesn't really seem to have gotten off the ground yet. And with all of those accomplishments, I still found time to shave my goatee (I still haven't grown it back), write my blog (really, a result of shaving the goat), win an NCAA tourney pool, and buy new golf clubs. I can only hope 2006 will be as successful. I'm still working on my goals for the year. If you have any ideas, I'd love to hear them. In the meantime, I'll be practicing my putting.