Which woman should I get upset?

I was out earlier two nights ago to help a friend, Ed, deliver a Christmas present. As usual our plans went sideways once we realized it was midnight and we had already consumed copious amounts of coke slurppee. Hence a 10 minute errand turned into a 1 hour directionless drive involving more slurpees, old Spanish maps and esoteric discussions on which woman it would be easier to upset (and live to talk about it) when deciding which party to attend for the upcoming New Years Eve.

Given the events of the evening I had a request from Ed: "Write about tonight." So please bear with me while I cater to his fantasy of being front & center on the blog...

After discovering the time and realizing our caffeine levels we quickly made plans to hook up with JT, an old physics buddy, in the Tim Hortons parking lot. Once we found out he was out driving randomly through "the hood" as well we knew it was meant to be. It did not seem strange to me that he was aimlessly driving around town by himself awaiting our call, but rather that we chose Tim Hortons of all places, knowing we prefer slurpees to coffee.

We slowed down in the parking lot just long enough for JT to hop in the back seat before peeling out. "Where we going?" he asked, slightly out of breath having made the sprint to our car. "I'm awake and ready to roll...and don't worry about the Pony, maybe it will be gone when we get back" he said, looking at his car in the parking lot as the cashier glanced out at the sudden parking lot commotion.

"I'm thinking some random driving downtown with a slushee stop on the way" was Ed's casual reply as we started towards downtown. "Five-o" JT called from the back seat as a police car came up behind us and cruised by, the officer peering in to check us out. "Be cool, and we won't get busted". I was thinking busted for what? Driving randomly towards downtown? But with a random drive heading downtown I knew there must have been more than old physics marks that Ed wanted to reminisce about.

"Ok JT, got a serious issue I need your advice on. Large potential dilemma may be brewing. I'm not sure where I want to be on New Year's eve...." Ed started, looking over for some manly assurance as the lights of downtown started to flash through our windows. "You know, we've got that party at A's house in the big city we're supposed to go to, as well as C's party over there, but I'm thinking of staying in town and not heading over for New Years."

"Wheeeew" JT started to whistle.

"And, P wants to have a wild party night, no matter the location." he finished, spilling his woes and worries out in one rapid fire shot.

"You're in a bind...but did you hear H wants low key and is staying in town?"

"What? Oh man...somebody isn't going to be happy...oh wait, Noodle box..." he said, shifting his attention to the passing downtown storefronts. "That is such a louh faan place. That reminds me LP, I'm coming over this week to show your wife how to make authentic fried noodles. It should be fun."

"Sweet, she'll be happy. Hey, to get out of the dilemma you could hang with us on New Years." I chimed in. "Early 6:00 dinner with the kids, bath & bed-time stories by 7:30 and we'll be asleep well before midnight! I mean, no woman can be mad at you if you choose to hang with our kids - and besides, you are guaranteed to get to bed early meaning a well rested entrance into the new year."

Thus followed a lively debate as to which party to go to and who would be upset by what.

My stance on the whole issue took a page from William Congreve: "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned" meaning "if you planned to go to it, you better have a good reason not to."

JT, on the other hand, had a much more balanced approach: "Dude, you gotta do what's best for you....nobody can argue with that." At that point it became brilliantly aware to me that JT was obviously not married. Several years of marriage has taught me when there is women involved there is a glaring difference between "what is good for you" and "what is good for us". To those uninitiated my comment may sound wicked, like a statistics assignment in a research methods class. However, those with experience in it, marriage or statistics, understand and appreciate the fundamental reasoning of my statement.

By the end of the evening Ed was no closer to resolving his dilemma. Three parties, two cities and women vying for his attention at all locations. Concering to some, envious for others but all in a days quandry for Ed.

Good luck buddy, whatever your destination may be, for you go where I cannot help.

Some days I feel fortunate to have the responsibility of staying home to play and stay with my kids, and this was shaping up to be one of those nights.

Callipygian part II

Earlier last week I wrote about my episode of being set up as a personal shopper aide to a friend whose wife just wanted him to "put any semblance of thought" into the gift. I believe her exact words were "tell him no gift cards from Home Depot." Apparently my track record of not giving gift cards and providing thoughtful gifts to my wife has set a standard that other husbands may be measured against.

Now for those husbands out there who I may, just may, make look a little bad I don't apologize. What can I say - to get the saucy wiggle I talked about in the other post I consider every husband for himself.

Translation: you gotta do what you gotta do. In my case that distills down to months of planning to provide the perfect gift that meshes seamlessly with the occasion of the day and hobby of the year.

So, two days before Christmas upon prompting of my wife I place the following call to my friend: "Hey, it's LP. Have you got your Christmas shopping for your wife yet?"

"Nope. Was going to swing by Home Depot tonight though, wanna come? I need to pickup a gift card or two."

At this point it all became crystal clear - if he failed with this Christmas gift I was going to get blamed for this due to my directed involvement. It was like a world leader being blamed for failing to strike a peace accord between two feuding nations - once you get involved you're deemed to be the point of failure no matter how unrelated you are to the actual situation. I had no Camp David, just a Costco and an Old Navy...nothing McGuyver wouldn't have a fix for. It took some coaching but he finally saw the light of "happy wife, happy life" phrase and he finally advanced towards getting clothes at Old Navy instead of a Home Depot gift card.

"Great, then you're set" I responded. Off the hook, another marriage saved by LP, or so I thought. "Yeah...she's probably upset because it's her birthday too and I haven't got anything for that." he casually dropped into the end of the conversation.

"Woah...backup. Birthday? And you don't have anything?" Peace accord has been breached by a rogue birthday assassin and the marriage has again cast off the dock from the island of stability. Fortunately in my advanced state of wisdom I had only agreed to being infused into this situation after my wife called his and asked for a hit of a list to work from. Next stop, themed gift #2. "Remember the scrapbooking things at Costco we saw the other night? Well there is five different things you can pick from. Get at least two with some paper and you're safe for another 365 days of thinking thoughtful gift thoughts."

So the plan was set - he was to get a few of the scrapbooking gifts that he thought she would like the most. I thought nothing of it and thought I was in the clear until I got a frantic phone call later that evening.

"Hey, I'm in Costco in the aisle with all the scrapbooking stuff...but what the heck should I get?"

Obviously oblivious to what is needed to scrapbook I sighed. "Well, probably what she would need to do some pages up in her scrapbook for the kids. The cutouts are a good deal and she'll need paper, so get the slab of colored paper that was there. It is a good deal at that price for what you get."

"What about this other Crayola paper beside it? It's cheaper. Does she really need this whole ream of paper? And how can a few paper cutouts be $20?"

"It's called a slab, not a block." was my calm reply. I continued on "The Crayola paper - that's 8.5" x 11" for kids, you need the 12"x12" scrapbook paper. And how many cutouts for $20? They are about $5 a pop in the scrapbook store." By now you may be asking "how can LP know so much about scrapbooking?" Well, I admit I actually did one last month as a Wedding present for someone. This means I had recently done about 50 full on scrapbooking pages and was completely proficient on using vellum tags, multiple shaped paper trimmers, eyelets, embossing charms and specialty adhesives. I was the scrapbooking guru in my house, at least for a week before I turned the circle cutter back to my wife.

"Slab? 12" x 12"? Is there some international scrapbook standard? Why is it a slab when it's a ream of paper everywhere else? This is like a cult!" he stammered, obviously getting quite flustered by this newly found knowledge. "How can they charge $5 for a punched out piece of paper??? This must be a huge cash cow! Ohhh, wait, there is 12 in the box, that makes it cheap! We should get a few boxes, break them up and sell them on ebay!".

At this point I wondered if shopping for your wife yet doing business cases on the gifts was still considered being thoughtful about the gift. He was obviously getting excited about the business prospects of skimming scrapbooking supplies but I tried to keep him focused on the task at hand. "Ok, next item. There were some scrapbooks beside that which were nice, maybe get one of those to round out the themed package." I suggested.

"I see them. They look big, like 12" x 12" or something." Bingo, another man pulled into the cult of stamping terminology and scrapbooking lore. Slowly but surely it appeared as if this Christmas present was shaping up to be the thoughtful gift she was hoping for. Armed with this new knowledge I was content that he was well on his way to having the necessary life skills to ensure future gifting successes. "Another padawan ready to face the trials" was my final thought.

So was she happy at the end of Christmas day? Apparently quite so with the scrapbooking theme, however out of the 6 pairs of pants he bought at Old Navy none really fit. To be fair the one I bought for my wife didn't really fit either but at least the thought was there, which was the whole point.

Crackhead Dance

I felt like I was in NY city earlier this week - I swear it was a first for me in this town - seeing someone fence stolen property out of his jacket at a bus stop. One of the local downtown crackheads must have had a good score thivery the night before because he had about 6 new leather Roots wallets he was asking people if they wanted to buy.

"Hey man, looking for a Christmas gift - I got something you need." We all stared silently, watching the impromptu street entertainment of an the feeble attempt at transaction cognition theory, playing out before our seats.

$10 was all he was asking for a wallet that was worth at least 10 times that amount. Seeing his drawn, scabbed face I assumed it was probably the equivalent price for a hit of crack or meth on the street. A few steps down another crackhead was doing a dance to the music of the traffic, like a black cherry - stoned and ready to drop from the tree of life.

Last week Waiter Rant was pondering of homeless people actually blogged - after all there is internet for free is most libraries in town. He linked to The Homeless Guy, who for the 7th time became unhomeless this past April. What was interesting, which is usual for the A-list bloggers, is to not so much read what the blogger posts but the comments on the post. There were some other blogs that were offered up, such as Unconventional Ideas and Survival Guide to Homeless.

Two caught my eye I thought I would share:

True story time: Homeless guy outside my building, and I would often buy a takeout meal from a local restaurant and split each of the items in half and share with him. He knew not to ask me for money, but I did tell him that if he really was desperate he could ask me to buy him a soda or something, which he sometimes did on a hot day.

One day he asks me to get him something to drink. He really needs it he says. Well, I said to him, you got me at the wrong time. I am actually flat broke right now. That evening when I came home he was waiting outside my door with a bag holding the same meal we usually split. "I did good bumming money today" he says.

and

Just yesterday, I was driving my oldest son to get his bowling ball redrilled. My youngest son was in the back seat. As we pulled off of I74 onto Montana Avenue, a homeless woman stood on the corner by the exit ramp holding a cardboard sign. "Cold and Hungry". I have a policy that if the light is red, I have cash, and a homeless person shivers on the side of the road, I will make a contribution to that person's well being. I pulled out a five, rolled down my window and handed her the money. She was red faced and cold. She thanked me, peering into the windows of my car to get a better look at my handsome sons. She smiled at the boys and said, "I hope I'm not taking your allowance." I smiled at her and assured her she wasn't.

The light turned green and I sped away. My oldest son (age 17) commented, "Jeez, Mom, I think she was drunk. Are you sure you should have given her money?" I debated my answer. "Perhaps she was, son, but I'd rather err on the side of humanity. A very cold person slurrs their speech, too. Besides, who are we to judge? She obviously needed help. I provided her with a tiny respite. What she does with it is now her business, not ours."

He nodded his head and looked out the window.

Interesting stories, but my day's episodes did make me think that next year I'm going shopping for the Gap and some Prada accessories on the street before heading into the mall.

A street panhandler walked by shortly after Mr. Fenced Goods moved on and given the recent performance, nobody offered change. Hard crowd, or have we become immune to the constant stream of "spare some change"? Sometimes it is hard to tell...

Del.icio.us links

I'm trying to get my links moved over to Del.icio.us, which you can see on the bottom of the right hand side. I think this will make it easier to add things on the fly, once I get the formatting right.

I also made the columns wider so my posts won't look as long, but it screwed up the graphics for the curved corners. So, look for it to change back, or I will find another blog template.

Let me know if anyone out there has a good one I should use...

LP.

Two opposites

This is my third post in almost as many days...I seem to be full of ideas now that Christmas is here and more people keep coming downtown doing their crazy things...I hope you enjoy.

I took the bus a few times today, and I came to realize that like snowflakes, good or bad there is never the same ride twice. Some are soft and delicate, giving a beautiful glow to the day while others are harsh and cold, making you wish for warmer seasons.

Ride #1 - Ride to the University: This was, by far, the sweetest bus ride I have ever had. The bus was 5 minutes early to my stop for some reason, and arrived at my stop completely empty. Not a sole, except for the cheery driver, who must have just started his shift. Considering it was 10:30 in the afternoon, I though this odd but then realized I should enjoy this moment while it lasts. Like being the first one up Christmas morning to see Santa had come...I had my own bus and didn't have to share it with my big brother. I took a seat in the very back, legs stretched out and arms taking all the space in - as opposed to my usual search for a seat that wasn't near some young punk on a cell phone, aloof to the noise pollution they create whey gabbing incessiently about the party they were at last night. Hey buddy - if you were that cool you would't be on the bus...

For a brief moment in time I had my own two tonne limo...complete with 30 seats for my closest friends. The only drawback - no wetbar.

I, and I can say "I" because there was no "we" on this particular bus, managed to hit every single green light and made a total of ZERO stops. Nearing my destination I pressed the "next stop" button and my personal transportation machine slowed down, just for me. I thought to myself sometimes things just line up, and today is going to be that kind of day...

Boy, was I wrong...

Bus Ride #3 - Ride from Downtown back to University: This was, by far, the crappiest bus ride I have ever had. The bus was pretty full but I managed to scoop my own seat half way down. My seat was right before the bus rises up a 1/2 level, meaning I was sitting where the rows behind me were about 3 feet above me. I was just at the edge of downtown, heading back to the University when he boarded.

He was dressed in a grubby jacket, trailing a tattered, yellow duffel bag that looked so old it was almost back in style again. I normally don't pay attention to people on the bus, but this was different - as soon as he glanced at my K2 bike bag I was holding he made a beeline for the seat behind me, perching himself directly behind and above me and leering down at my bag. Now I typically ride wearing my ipod, as I find it blocks out the noise and seems to make my destination go faster. Not today....

"What was that about?" I started to wonder, but was stopped short in my thoughts because as he sat down behind me I was hit with an overpowering smell of bad weed and alcohol. It rapidly turned into one of those "need to breath through your mouth so you don't get sick from the smell" moments... shit. How the hell could he smell like that and still walk a straight line to the seat? Now that is an engineering drinking game I failed while in my undergrad, but I digress...

I turned my headphones up and was staring blankly ahead but it was no use . "Sir, sir"...he stammered, tugging on my jacket to get my attention "K2...K2....your bag is K2." Great, now I'm sitting in front of a drunk who likes my branding image.

"Yep, sure is". Oh man, this was going to be a loooong bus ride back today. Quick scope, no other seats to move to and people standing as well. I was boxed in.

"My name starts with K too. Get it? K too? K2" he slurred.

"Yep" was my slightly terse reply. Normally I'd be friendly if someone wants to talk but I usually draw the line when their body odor is reminiscent of the black plague. By now my eyes were starting to water, but he persisted again. "Sir, sir" he said with a sloppy grin, still tugging on my jacket. "K2...the numbers are K seven".

By this point I was breathing completely through my mouth, looking around for another spare seat. A quick scope of the bus location put me about 1/2 way to my destination, and it was raining. This was one of those times where the prospect of being sick on the bus was going to be played out if I didn't act.

*PING* The bus slowed down to pickup the next set of passengers and I saw my exit. My fight or flight response kicked into autopilot and I was GONNE, out the door and into the downpour. The bus pulled away and I breathed in the sweet, damp fresh air. It took an extra 30 minutes to walk back to my next appointment, but it was well worth it. I was free at last. Free at last. Thank God almighty, I was free at last.

Although my first ride of the day was the best I've ever had, have I mentioned I can't wait until I can drive again???

And next time I'll write about the drunk guy who passed out next to me in the Library at the computer terminal and the transvestite on the other side doing her makeup in the computer screen reflection...It was an eventful day.

Callipygian doesn't fit into gift certificate envelopes

"So I was talking to J earlier tonight and her husband is going to get a gift card for a clothing store for Christmas" my wife says to me. "I think she was hinting to me to talk to you to talk her husband into getting something from the store that she can actually wear."

Within 2 sentences I knew I was going to be pulled somewhere I shouldn't be....

I'm sitting there thinking just because I have time to kill this season, has that made me a personal shopper? "I'm supposed to get involved in this? I don't think I have time..." I cautiously respond, looking for some visual cues of where not to venture next. What I am really thinking of saying is "I have one appointment tomorrow - between getting downtown, wandering around and watching people be busy, visiting Starbucks, having my appointment, visiting another Starbucks, thinking of what to blog and window shopping at the local strip club, how can you possibly expect me to have time to get involved?". This was one of those 'keep your inside voice inside you' moments I opted to go with.

"You should take him shopping for her, you've got the time." In retrospect I realized keeping my inside voice inside was probably a good choice at this point.

"...And just for the record you wouldn't buy me a gift card for Christmas...would you?" she says as she looks over, the beginning of "the look" starting to form. I'm sensing a trap at this point. My woman spider sense is starting to tingle...not a good sign.

"I don't think..." I started to say before she cut me off: "Because if you did...I'd be pissed."

At this point I realize I am at rubicon of this conversation....

This has the potential to go one of two ways - either I'm going to say something that, no matter how logically right will be so horribly wrong, or it will be the complete opposite. It's like playing blackjack in Vegas and standing after 2 cards - either the dealer will bust and I win, or the odds say I will probably loose. You would think I should know better, but oblivious to the dismal odds I decide a little knowledge for my gender is a good thing for all of us and I'm going for it...: "Wait", I protested, "I never get you gift cards...and besides, just so I know why would you be pissed?"

"Because, I'd buy the same things I always buy me - and when you shop for me you get me different things....that I normally wouldn't buy."

"Like what? The low cut, cleavage enhancing one-size-too-small shirts that you always complain brings attention to you chest? Ed and I think they make you look trendy and hot - are you saying you don't like them?" At this point time seems to slow down and the room goes deathly silent. There is no "sorry, not the right answer but I love you anyhow" optional ending to this discussion, it's all or nothing baby. If this fails I hope the rest of the guys realize I'm taking one for the team, and I'll need an immediate MediVac out of a hot LZ.

She tilted her head and thought for a moment. "No comment" she responded, giving a wink and walking out of the room with a slightly saucy wiggle.

Dealer goes bust! I think I'm going shopping tomorrow...and not for a gift card.

Thanks for stopping by...

I noticed, after 3 short months of this blog, I have reached over 1000 hits. Considering I sent the link to only 9 people to start, I'm personally quite surprised. I haven't hit the blogging A list yet, and no book deal in the works but I'm sure I'm on my way somewhere in that general direction.

And how do I know those 9 people aren't just pinging like crazy? Well, when I mentioned to one the other day my hit count he said "who the heck is reading it? I've only looked once!".

Mental note: don't cater any posts to my brother-in-law to ensure readership. I'll let the both brother-in-laws fight out which one said it, assuming the one reads this post ;)

So, to the remaining 8 that read as well as new people that have joined on - thanks for taking the time to read and passing it on to others if you enjoy it! If nobody did read it I would still post, I just probably wouldn't spell check as much....

LP.