Darian the Vicenarian

Therapy

2012-01-31T20:57:00.000-05:00

I've never been a big fan of doctors. I guess technically I have 2 strikes, I'm male and I'm an African American. These are 2 of the biggest demographics that consistently do not go to doctors for help. So when I suggested to T that we seek therapy, I was a concerned husband that wanted to fix the problems in our marriage. The only problem with that is Therapy is a 2 way street. It only works if the couple is engaged in the process of solving our issues. Only one of us was interested in a resolution.

By the time I suggested marriage counseling, I had already called on a few counselors and left messages. When T showed no interest in counseling, I moved on to plan B, which was get counseling on my own. It seemed like the right thing to do. I had lost my mother 8 months ago, and then I lose my wife on top of that? I wasn't on the edge or about to do anything rash to harm myself or others, but I just needed a sounding board to help comprehend some of what I was feeling at that time.

And the hits just keep on coming...

2011-06-24T18:20:00.004-04:00

I vacillated about coming back to this blog. However if a blog can do anything it's to get your feelings out on paper. Talking my way through different situations and getting a little help from what readers I have left.

So I'm back now for good. I'm going to make it a point to make sure and update this blog on a more regular basis. Especially since, yet another life changing monkey-wrench has gummed up the works yet again. SEPARATION.

I can honestly tell you that I didn't see this coming. T has developed feelings for someone else and she didn't feel comfortable revealing his identity, and being married to me was "too hard." According to her, "...we don't have any kids, so this should be the easy part." Hmm... interesting, because, last I checked, when have quite a few friends with no kids, and marriage is no cakewalk for them.

I'm sorry this update is so behind the curve, but this has been my reality since the end of March. From March to about mid-May, we've been living in the same house, in 2 separate rooms and in 2 separate beds. Last week marked the one month mark that I've been on my own.

The last time I saw her before that was the week before I was set to move out and she chose to stick with "Our" vacation plans and went to the timeshare in Virginia Beach. I was waiting for the day for a time when she would eventually need to talk to me which occurred via text message. There were leftover bills from the house that we're set to "short sell" in May but instead of splitting them evenly as planned, she decided to take the stand of justifying her way out of paying her half with incidental bills like lawn care of the old house.

Most of our exchanges go down like a drug deal. It feels weird, awkward, prickly and overall just not good. It's like I almost needed a shower after our feeble attempts and well wishes and stifled conversation. There's no "Hello!" or "Hi!" or other typical pleasantries. If feels more like a strange sitcom like continuation of a horrible exchange with a bookmark of ickyness.

Her reasons for leaving hasn't changed. Her vapid response to anything I say to her has continued. And yet, she wants to be friends. She talked about that several times before her admission. And I don't need anymore friends. I'm not in that place in my life where I need more friends.

Is being single hard? HELL YES! Especially when one has been off the market for 10 years. Many things have changed and everything is different. Is it going to be a little weird? Yes! Is it going to be very awkward? Certainly! Are you along for the ride? Get Ready.

L8er.

The Darkest Day

2010-05-17T23:21:00.006-04:00

Generally this blog has been used to air out and make sense of some of the musings that I may just happen to have swirling around my head. I write because I hope someone feels what i feel and may understand that they're not alone in this great big world. I know it sounds hokey, but that's my reason for being here and I'm sticking to it.

In my head, I almost perish the thought of saying it, or even typing it. As if I avoid either speech or the written word, it is as if it didn't happen. But it did. Last week, my mother passed away.

From the inside, I can tell you that there are so many emotions that charge through your being. The first being disbelief. The doctor told us that there was nothing more that could be done and nothing more that she could be given. He didn't expect for her to last the hour, but she did. She lasted all the way through Mother's Day and the next morning she left this world to begin the next.

I don't know how I'm supposed to make sense of it all. This is my mother. She's the strength and the rock of our small intimate family unit. I used to see her everyday when she came home from the hospital and I made her lunch while she was getting back on her feet and now she's gone. It's just so heartbreaking when you have someone who's lived and great life, inspired so many people to face their greatest fears and succeed, someone who did it the right way and somehow managed to raise my crazy ass is gone. I can never go to the house and see her anymore. I can't call her. I can't write to her. I'm just a boy who misses his mother.

I'm fighting so hard to put on a brave face because that is what my sister and my father need right now. Mom was fully aware of her mortality and she in turn wrote down every detail regarding what to do after her demise. It was so hard to push through that letter. She knew exactly how we would take it as a family. She demanded that we stay focused, smile and remember her.

You never really know just how big of an impact your mother had on this Earth until she leaves it. It is so hard to listen to over 300+ people both friends and family tell you how much she meant to them. How she inspired them to be better people. How she changed their lives. How much she cared for everyone. My mother was no saint, but she was incredibly close. It wasn't a matter of being righteous. It was a matter of being honest. She spoke in blunt truths, but every single morsel of that honesty was out of love.

“The Joy of Nature” or “When Birds Attack”

2009-11-13T22:49:00.003-05:00

My wife and I had gone through this song and dance before. We open the door to our house last week only to find the tell tale evidence that a bird had broken into the house yet again. We saw bird-poop on the tile floor and smears on the glass sliding door from the bird slamming into it trying to escape. It wasn’t a matter of if, but a matter of where the bird was hiding in the house.

I being the consummate “Manly-Man” told my wife to stay near the door as I Elmer Fudded my way around the house looking for the bird. I didn’t hear any chirping or flapping but after about 15 minutes, I was ready to tap out. I figured, “maybe he didn’t break in.”

WRONG! As I’m heading to the couch, the bird takes flight 2 feet away from me, and I spring into DEFCON 5 mode. I yell for my wife to open the door and get outside. I then call for a weapon, and my wife answers, “There’s a broom in the closet.”

Armed with a broom and my wits, I proceed to poke, prod and yell at this stupid bird to stop slam into window and fly out of the friggin’ door! Now mind you, I haven’t run since…5^th grade. I’m a taller guy with some size, so as opposed to having to run away, I prefer to intimidate.

Unfortunately, this bird preferred to fly around the house from room to room and duck and dodge and flap around the house. Since the bird gave chase, it required me to run upstairs and downstairs, in closets and out of closets. After the first trip upstairs, I started shutting doors to keep from drawing the bird back upstairs. At this point I’m angry, annoyed, and covered in sweat. Then the bird takes refuge in the corner of my dining room and perches on the crown molding. Then I remember that I have an equalizer…from the groundhog incident…THE B-B GUN!

I dart upstairs and grab that beloved pellet gun that my finally even my flightless odds against my winged nemesis. I then took it back downstairs and allowed those little green pellets to do the convincing for me. So I was comically armed like Dirty Harry and King Arthur, the bird finally left our humble abode. I went upstairs and collapsed in a heap. Running Sucks!

Sidebar: Ladies…? Why is it we have to be aggressive “Manly-Men” when danger rears its ugly head, but when we’re doing our duty to defend your honor when another guy comes sniffing around, we’re being “ridiculous.” One minute you want us to be the cultured, sensitive, guy who shares his emotions and feelings and the next you want us to unleash our inner caveman.

L8er.

Father's Day

2009-06-20T11:17:00.004-04:00

Hey yall,

I just wanted to tell you guys a little story about my Dad. Fairly recently, my Dad's uncle, Buddy, passed on, and my father wished to go to the funeral. Considering he had just had hip replacement surgery, the braintrust and I didn't think it was a good idea for him to go alone; especially with a long drive on a new hip. So Sis and I drew straws, and it was easier for me to go.

The day started bright and early for me at 4 a.m. which give me the time to get to my parents house by 4:30 and for us to leave for the funeral by 5:00. Due to eating habits and meal necessitites, we left the house at about 6:15. It kinda defeated the purpose of me waiting at 4, but that's water under the bridge.

A little background, if you please...

Dad and I haven't always seen eye to eye on most things. Part of it is generational; part of it is bravado, and the other part is that we are so alike, we drive each other crazy. So one would think that getting in a car and driving 6+ hours with only each other would be a most tempestuous mistake. Surprisingly, I couldn't be further from the truth.

Losing someone in your family is never a happy occassion, but this trip did a lot for our relationship. I would go as far to say that this trip did alot for us, or for that I thank Buddy.

Sidebar: Skeevy roadside Bathrooms.

I know what you're thinking. "Hello! Earth to Darian! It's called a ROADSIDE BATHROOM for a reason!" Maybe I'm mythologizing my youth, but bathrooms didn't look like this when I was little. We used to make roadtrips all the time, and with a child-sized bladder, I've seen my share of rest stops and roadside bathrooms. Some of the bathrooms we saw practically required a shower immediately upon exit.

The first bathroom we came upon was in a small town in southern Virginia. We had a choice: McDonald's or Amoco. Now the McDonald's must have had everyone on the eastern seaboard eating inside. I have never in my life seen a McDonald's so full. It also had an extra large parking lot tha was full! Like they expected their popularity! Seeing the sea of cars and people, we opted to go to Amoco which in stark contrast, was completely empty.

Upon entering the Amoco, we were greeted by some guy on his cellphone. We ask for the bathroom and he points. We enter, and this place was pretty bad. You would think these places get inspected, but it was not as bad a the Subway gas station combo that we pull into about 3 hours later.

Oh...My...God. I couldn't believe that this place actually served FOOD! As soon as you walk in the door, there are flies EVERYWHERE! Thankfully the urinals were ok, but the bathroom stalls looked the battlefield of a fecal war. Now, last I checking, the aim of the roadside bathroom/restaurant game is to have a pristine bathroom experience for potential customers. The last thing you want is someone to lose their appetite and lower their perception of your restaurant's cleanliness standards by keeping a bathroom that's a biohazzard. I consider it a lesson learned: Only use a bathroom in an establishment where you would also eat.

L8er.

Back like I left something...

2009-04-16T21:47:00.001-04:00

Well folks, I'm back for a lovely trip to the beach, and I did enjoy myself, but it wasn't without its moments! I'll explain.

So T got us one of those deals with a Timeshare company that my In-laws use. They give us a room in a Hotel on Main Street 4-days and 3 nights for about $160 and in exchange we "sit through their fabulous tour and timeshare offer and we get $50 bucks back if we accept or decline the offer." In my humble estimation, not a bad deal right?

So we arrive at the hotel and it looks a little "sketch." I'm willing to push this assumption aside until I saw the room itself. You can't judge a hotel by it's lobby and elevator. So we get to the room, and the view is gorgeous, but something didn't seem right about it. T & I stretched out legs about the beach and the surrounding area after our LONG drive.

We got back to the hotel, and I, unable to sleep in a strange place on the first night, stayed up for most of the night and watched TV. I went to bed 4 hours after the wife at about 12:15 pm.

***SIREN BLAST, SIREN BLAST, SIREN BLAST! THIS IS AN EMERGENCY SITUATION, PLEASE EVACUATE THE BUILDING***

I wake up, startled and it's about 4:30 in the morning. The siren is what I would liken to Star Trek: The Next Generation. You know, the siren that goes off anytime the Enterprise is attacked? Imagine that noise on about 4 hours worth of sleep. Not good.

T & I throw some clothes from our respective Twin beds (No Kings or Queens in this hotel!) and follow the masses downstairs and outside into the breezy and frosty air. Looking around, we definitely made the right move in getting dressed, because there is some seriously half-dressed and half-asleep folks around. Four minutes later, 3 Fire Trucks with full sirens, lights, and uniforms show up to the hotel and they begin to search the building. Security shows up and tells everyone that we're free to walk down to a neighboring hotel lobby and wait for the Firemen to finish searching the building and give us the all clear. We groggily shuffle to the hotel lobby and wait along with a few other fellow early risers.

So about an hour later, we're back in our Hotel room with no chance of getting back to sleep and zero apology from the Hotel. So we head back out the next morning for more "vacation shenanigans" and that afternoon we have our meeting with the Sales people. T and I have plenty of experience with these "sales meetings" and we would advise to always wait until the final offer to turn down the deal, because they will do everything to try to make you buy, even in THIS economy. They made an offer we couldn't refuse, and I can say that we're the new proud owners of a timeshare that we had no plans of purchasing, but have no buyers remorse.

Heading back to the hotel after our spontaneous purchase, we find some other guests at the hotel have taken up residence in our room: roaches! Mind you, this is only after our toilet breaks! At my wit's end, and being a brand new timeshare owner, I refused to sit up in the roach motel with septic issues!

We called our Timeshare company to shed some light on our plight. These guys are champs in my book, and here's why:

They apologized profusely for the roach infestation and the "septically challenged" bathroom.
They put us up in their poshest Vacation Property with a view of the beach that would make God smile!
They offered us an extra day's stay (which we gladly partook!)
They allowed us to check out immediately after the phone call.

Turns out they had no idea that their hotel was a living reenactment of "Good Times." That was when our vacation truly started and we had a ball! I guess everything has a balance, a little bit of hell and a whole lot of heaven.

L8er.

We're all Adults here...right?

2009-03-12T22:34:00.004-04:00

I'm sorry that this may seem like a mish-mash post, but this just happened to me and the wounds are still fresh. I was just at my local supermarket, and apparently I was looking extra sketchy, because I got the hairy eyeball from one of the night stockers.

As I shot into the Health and Beauty aisle, he stared at me as I pretended to shop for lotion and other body creams. I say this not to skeeve you out, but because my mind was elsewhere. I was shopping for Condoms.

For some reason, at my local market, and every other place I've worked part time, (CVS [props to Shannon, the Dissaffected Scanner Jockey, see Noteworty Bloggers] and Shoppers Food Warehouse for example); condoms always seem to be front and center at most Groceries and Pharmacies to a point where it feels like your on stage when you go shop for them. For example, at the particular market, they were right next to the Pharmacy window.

What do they think? We're going to ask for directions or opinions? Do they feel that the male bravado is so high that we need to announce to the world that we're "gettin' some?" Call me crazy, but are the overwhelming majority of Pharmacists female? Would the average male feel more comfortable buying Condoms with a cute young pharmacist eyeing their purchase? Why would they deem that necessary? Don't they want our youth to use them?

Maybe you think that I'm taking the purchase of Condoms too seriously, but Newsflash: WE DO! Think about the many different types of Condoms that are out there: Trojan, Durex, Lifestyles, Latex, Lambskin, Polyuerothene, Polyisoprene, Lubricated, Spermicided, Ribbed, Contoured, Ultra-Thin, Extra Strength, Pleasure Tipped, Studded, Flavored, and a vast sundry of others. This is not a purchase we take lightly, because a crappy Condom is like a bad haircut. It's not cheap and it's an error that you have to live with until you get another one.

I once went as far as 2 counties to purchase Condoms from someone that doesn't personally know my Mother. That's how real it is for me!

L8er.

The "Big" red line and the little Blue Light...or that old reliable Ex-Girlfriend

2009-03-03T00:47:00.000-05:00

For some reason, during my Groundhog Adventure, I noticed something very strange about my shopping habits. I live in one of the few towns that has both a Wal-Mart and a K-Mart. I do a bulk of my shopping at the Wal-Mart because it is of the "Super" distinction. Getting my groceries among other things is so much cheaper there than anywhere else.

However, when the chips are down, or I'm looking for something a bit more obscure, I end up going to the lonely, run down, dimly lit K-Mart.

I guess part of it is that it reminds me of my childhood. When I was growing up, the closest and largest store in our town was a K-Mart. I know that's not saying much for my town, but it was a very small, and very young town. I guess the other part is that the price point is lower and the items they carry are a bit more obscure. As opposed to name brands, they prefer to carry brands that you slightly recognize. Like Craftsman, or Die Hard.

The only problem with the K-Mart "go-to move" is that they consistenly disappoint me by:

Not carrying the item I was looking for at all.
Carrying the item with very few alternatives
Setting the price point so high, that I'm better off going to Wal-Mart, and kicking myself because that's where I should have gone the first place!

I always keep having the same conversation with myself, asking "Why the hell did I come here?" "What was I thinking that they would carry that?" "Who in their right mind, buys something here that has a higher price point AND lower in quality?"

Maybe I'm too forgiving and fiercly loyal of brands that I grew up with as a child. When I was little K-Mart was the be-all, end-all. If I couldn't find it at K-Mart, then they hadn't invented what I was looking for yet.

But WHY DO I KEEP GOING BACK?!?! Am I that proverbial guy keeps giving that ex-girlfriend chance after chance, and she keeps breaking my heart. Despite the fact that I've moved on, and I have other options that have what I need and treat me better than my ex? Am I that guy?
L8er.

The Groundhog Adventure

2009-01-23T01:21:00.000-05:00

So, you're old buddy boy, Darian had taken off from the Office and his side job one day. I'm hanging out around the house and just wallowing in my own filth. It wasn't like I was heading anywhere, so why take a shower? I was making my morning jaunt to get the morning paper on the lawn and what do I see digging next to my stoop...a giant Groundhog.

Now, keep in mind, those that know me, know that I'm not the nature type. In my case, it usually ends with scratches, stinging, or just a bad time. So the Groundhog stops digging at my foundation, looks at me, and then starts digging again.

I yell, I scream, I stomp...no response from Mr. Groundhog. So I go in the garage and grab the lawnmower.

I figured, most wild animals hate loud noises and he would scurry on back to Groundhog Town after my vacuum cleaner. I was wrong. Apparently, he's used to it. He paused briefly, and then continued working on his hole.

I then went to the garage and wheeled out my lawnmower. It's WAY louder than my vacuum cleaner and a lot more annoying. NO DICE! He paused one again, and then continued his carnage. Then I reached for the hose. Sprayed him right on the head. He FINALLY STOPPED. He then shook of the water, and continued.

I then accepted the fact that he was going to dig no matter what I tried. I went back in the house and opened up the phone book, and came to a startling conclusion. Apparently my town doesn't have animal control. So I searched for a professional company that dealt with critters and varmints. I called and told them what was happening. They said, "Well Sir, we won't be able to get anyone out there today." I pleaded, "but he's digging NOW! Whatever, how much?" The gentleman said, "Well it would be about $250.00 to set a trap, and then another $150.00 to take the animal away." "Thank you. Bye!"

So I start thinking about projectiles. What can I shoot at this thing without killing it and having to clean up a dead animal? Thinking back to my childhood, I thought of those dart guns with the suction cup tips. Something to annoy that animal...from a distance. I'm not friggin' Grizzly Adams here! I don't generally deal with woodland creatures, and I don't know how it may react. I'm sure I can win a fight against a Groundhog, but at what cost? Rabies? Hell-to-the-Naw!

So I head to the Dollar Store expecting to find the dart gun section teaming with different automatic and semi-automatic options. It's been a long time since I was little. Surely they've stepped up on the Dart Gun technology. Unfortunately, no dice! They didn't have any!

So my search leads me to K-Mart. They don't have dart guns either. Something about "Young Children" and "Gun Safety." Anyway, I then begin to wonder...instead of Darts...what about...Pellets? Surely they're faster than dart guns, and probably more painfully annoying! I purchase a pellet gun and safety goggles (Safety first, even in Pest Control!) from K-Mart and still find the Groundhog digging away.

I unwrap the packaging, load the gun and then attempt to do some test fires. The gun jams. I call the 800 number in the instruction manual and they tell me I may have a bad gun. Take it back to the store and get another. I go a step further and get a refund and leave the ex-girlfriend that is K-Mart and head to good 'ole Wal-Mart.

Not to get too geeky but I found an inexpensive .25 caliber Colt (a recognizable firearms manufacturer as opposed to the more expensive and less recognizable K-Mart brand of Crossman) that can hold 15 shots and worked just fine during a test fire. Wal-Mart even had more expensive versions with laser sights, Combat models, and

Upon my return to my home, I find NO GROUNDHOG! I went into the house, happy that the Groundhog was gone, but crestfallen that I couldn't get avenge the hole in my yard on that stupid creature. Maybe it's for the best.

L8er.

The Role-Reversal

2008-12-29T01:15:00.003-05:00

It appears that I'm hitting new ground with my mother-in-law! I don't mean to sound so excited, but let me give you some background on our overly-simplistic relationship.

It of course, began when I asked my mother-in-law and T's sister, my intentions of asking for T's hand in marriage. They were pretty happy with me, but my mother-in-law didn't quite know me as well as T's sister. Mainly because my mother-in-law lives out of state, and at the time, my sister-in-law lived up the street. I was convinced she didn't like me as much because we didn't have interesting conversations, or deep discussions.

Most of our chats consisted of the weather. The topic is non-threatening, light, and non-opinionated. Perfect for an older woman, 50 plus years my senior. Anytime we spoke on the phone or in person, it was always, "a little bit cold up here in Virginia." And she would retort with, "It's 70 degrees in Atlanta. Great weather we're having." I was convinced that she probably thought I worked for the Weather Channel because that topic was my go-to. What else do you talk about to a woman in her 80s?

This holiday season, she decided to split time between my sister-in-law and my house. My sister-in-law gets more days because she has more kids than I do, so she's living with us for several days, and then heading back home. I am now spending my first of several days with my mother-in-law uninterrupted. No work, no hobbies, no nothing. Just pure Mother-in-law.

So on the way home today from the grocery store, I make my snide remark about our Weather chats, and my wife says, "Actually she can't stop talking about you. How lucky I am to have a husband that is so loving and humble! It's making me sick." I smile, but laugh it off in disbelief. Then the magic happens when we get home. As I'm taking out the trash, I heard, "He's so humble and quiet. You're so lucky to have him."

Now mind you, T's Sister actually found me weird and didn't trust me at first, because I seemed "too quiet." Upon meeting anyone new, I don't talk a whole lot. My reasoning is that I'm taking mental notes on that new person. Over time I slowly begin to show my true personality and sick sense of humor. That way I don't overwhelm them, or offend.

Therefore, the very same Personality Flaw that my sister-in-law didn't find trusting, is the same Trait that my mother adores. She said, "He can be feeling something different, but he's always so nice." This, of course is driving my wife up the wall, and I'm enjoying it...a little.

L8er.

Why are chicken strips so friggin' expensive?

2008-12-19T00:12:00.003-05:00

As my spouse and I were out shopping yesterday for food, an interesting query came about as we were passing the KFC. What are chicken strips so friggin' expensive. As we were passing, KFC was advertising that their chicken strips were 3 for $4.99, but a 10 piece was $7.99. There's a bit of disparity there.

We continued past Chick-fil-A, and found that same paradigm to be in practice, except there, we found the strips more expensive than the sandwich, which makes even less sense! Think about it, a sandwich is comprised of a large chicken breast patty, lettuce, tomato,( both optional), a delightful toasted and buttered bun, and a strategically placed pickle. Compare that price point to 3 strips of breast meat in a box.

It is my theory that the Corporations have put one over on us! Not just the American Public, but the Worldly Gastronomic Republic of Consumers that we are. How are they able to get away with charge more for physically less?

So expounding on this fact, let's take a look a the Golden Arches. Now it is obvious to me that the Chicken Selects are a higher quality of chicken compared to Chicken McNuggets. Their price difference is understandable because the selects are for a more complicated and grown up palate, however; comparing the price point to the chicken sandwiches...something doesn't jive for me. One would think that the sandwich has more chicken and more accouterments than the strips.

I have scoured the Internet for an answer to this conundrum to no avail. I leave it to you, the smarter and more patient public that may have a better answer than my frustration.

"Sign" O' Trouble...

2008-11-12T04:27:00.000-05:00

Given, I'm not a political person, but like most people, the upcoming election has made me a bit more politically charged than usual.

A candidate that my wife an I support came to town and she wanted me to blow off my "other" job and join her at the rally. I, of course, mumbled something (begrudgingly) about responsibility and I worked my shift that night. She was there for about 5 hours from beginning to end, and had a BLAST!

Upon my arrival home that night, I noticed a sign in the window, presumably from the rally. So I go in the house, and remove the sign and throw it under the sofa. I know, I know...dick move! But there's some back story you need to know.

I have been very clear about yard signs or any showing of political affiliation at or near the house. I have nothing against my neighborhood or my surroundings, but I still don't quite feel like a local...yet. My wife has been chomping at the bit to post a yard sign to show her solidarity and her belief in that campaign. I respect that, I do! However, there are 3 reasons why I'm dead set against a yard sign or any other iterations:

It changes your relationship with your neighbors when you wear your political affiliation on your sleeve. It feels as if you've tipped your hand and they have something "over" you.
It could create a "Sign War" with other neighbors. One political sign can inspire others which could divide neighbors and the neighborhood.
I live where there aren't too many minorities, and showing any sort of support for either candidate could make my house a target. Again, my neighborhood is devoid of the old "Stars and Bars" but we're about a 7 minute drive from a few houses with the Confederate Flag on a flagpole in their front yard.

So fast forward to 2 days later, and when we're pulling into the driveway, she notices the sign is missing. I begin to explain that "We've talked about not posting a sign" and she completely goes Postal. She begins to speak about her "rights" and the "time she spent to get that sign" and "our responsibility" and that I'm a "fearful wuss." I asked during the barrage of insults, "What do you plan to do with the sign if I give it back?" She refused to answer, which told me that she would post it immediately.

Seeing no other option to this impasse of opinion, she pulled, what she thought was the Ace in the Hole to earn an instant win...she called my mother.

After a heated discussion with the U.N. (read Mom), T understood that it wasn't that I was irrationally freaking out about the sign, but my chief purpose as the man of the house is to Protect the house. Posting anything that my result in retaliation is my concern. I also understood that hiding the sign was as wrong as she unilaterally posting the sign. Cooler heads prevailed and the lovely land of Eden was once again at peace.

P.S. By the way...the day after our argument, my parents saw a news report about retaliatory attacks on houses for yard and window signs. "I told you so"never even entered my head, but...

L8er.

Darian's Food Theory...Part 2

2008-09-09T06:15:00.000-04:00

And so my wacky eating habits continue, as I actually find myself observing how I eat when I'm alone in the car or the break room. I know, I know. I'm nuts, and the insanity continues.

I've recently found myself buying and eating Pop-Tarts again. Considering my 45 to 60 minute drive into work, I could eat a lot worse! Well with eating those beloved rectangular pastries, I find myself falling into old habits.

Because of it's shape and Crust, Pop Tarts fall into the "Sandwich" category along with Regular Meat Based Sandwiches on White Bread and Uncrustables. For the uninformed, Uncrustables are a lovely sandwich from Smuckers that basically stamps the heart out of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in a small single pack. Thaw out the package and **poof** you have a lovely sandwich to enjoy. Like the Pop-Tart, I eat the crust first and then eat the middle.

So yes, I "uncrust" Uncrustables.

I've also have a new theory to add to my long list of Food Theories: The Pound Rule.

When I'm indulging on a nice back of snack chips, out of the public eye, I organize them according to how much flavor powder is on each chip. You know what I mean when I say flavor powder, right? Think back to that last bag of Doritos or any flavored chip. There's a certain amount of magical, flavorful, pixie dust brought by the food fairies to add to the deliciousness of the product.

It started in elementary school when I used to eat Sour Cream and Onion, Ripple Cut potato chips on top of my Tuna Sandwich, but I would sort them to make sure the most heavily powdered chips ended up on my sandwich.

Every once in a while, this compulsion resurfaces, and I must organize the chips, but I discovered the last time I at Wheat Thins, this rule did not apply. Mainly because the folks at Nabisco know how to fully cover the cracker in flavor powder to make sorting them futile and pointless. This is where the Pound Rule comes into play.

The Pound Rule states, "When a company earns the privilege to have their snack cracker or chip enjoyed, and they have proven, bag after bag, or box after box, that the flavor powder distribution is approaching the saturation levels deemed acceptable, you have a license to pound the product into oblivion."

Now the "Pound Rule" will never, ever, include Doritos. I have a love-hate relationship with Doritos. The flavor fairies are so kind with Doritos, and the powder is amazing, but the inconsistency from chip to chip drives me nuts. Frito-Lay, MAKE UP YOUR MINDS. Don't pile on the powder, and then give me barely a taste on the very next chip. This is part of the reason why I don't eat them anymore: takes WAY too long to sort them and then eat them.

Another exception to the "Pound Rule" is Combos. I actually crack open that lovely cracker or pretzel cylinder and separate the cracker from the filling. Believe it or not...I've met 2 other people that eat them the same way. I know, I know. The patients are running the asylum, but they seem so nice, and the medicine is great!

L8er.

I speak "Woman-ese"

2008-08-15T21:22:00.000-04:00

Being a married man in the twilight of his twenties, there's been one resounding reason why my wife has not changed the locks on me (yet!). I speak several different dialects of "Woman-ese" and "Woman-ese" slang.

Given that my wife's form of the language is local only to her, the following translations should be treated as a public service to all of my brothers out there. I'll share with you some of the key plays in her play book.

Women mainly speak a diminutive version of something they call in Communication Circles "secret language." "Secret Language" is basically the act speaking in passive suggestion as opposed to a more direct line of questioning. For example:

"Are you hungry?"

Now this question can be a sticky wicket in my household. This could mean 1 of 2 things: 1.) She may have noticed something in me that exhibited signs to her that I'm hungry or 2.) She's hungry but afraid to say so. It's usually the former of the 2 in which case I always say, "I'm not hungry, but I could eat!"

"Are you ready?"

This question usually unfurls during a party or get together or what I like to call "away games." It's usually a situation where we've both had WAY too much day. This is also a situation where we either have a long drive ahead of us, or midnight is fast approaching. Either way, I know SHE'S ready.

"I choose [blank]"

This is a tough one. My loving wife has a bad habit of presenting me with 2 options. She then chooses one, and the relents and chooses the other one, but only after I'm completely psyched up about the 1st decision.

"I'm leaving it up to you..."

This isn't as cold as it sounds. This means she's reached a point where a decision needs to be made, but she doesn't want to make it. The reason for her indecision could be anything, but at the time, she's not going to make one, and I have to live with the results; good, bad, or indifferent.

L8er.

Goin' South...

2008-07-11T06:36:00.001-04:00

Happy Summer everybody, and I'm back after a week long vacation in the South with some of my wife's family and yours truly in a series of what I like to call, "Trials."

Trial 1: The Drive Down
From point A in NoVa to Point B in the South, we had to cover approximately 600 miles. However, I had to make the trip in a Minivan with 3 kids (8, 6, and 1), a Sister-in-law and my wife. You can only imagine how much fun that was.

Where's my Brother-in-law you may ask? He works for a company based in Europe that could give a God damn about the U.S. Independence day, so everyone begrudgingly worked the long weekend for the Commie bastards.

For most of the trip, the 8 and 6 year olds were busy with their hand held games and their backseat DVD player. Thankfully I had brought my brand new Nintendo DS, and was all set to take the second shift in driving after my Sister-in-law(who has made the drive before) took the first shift until...we went to the local Sheetz for coffee.

I went in and got my rations for the road and came back out while my Sister-in-law stood guard in the minivan with the kids. Then my Sister-in-law took her turn and some stupid, idiotic, bitch bumped into rushing off to her shitty minimum wage job, spill boiling coffee all over her hands. She was mildly scalded and the ice packs in our cooler did the trick, but she was in no shape to drive first shift. Bye-bye DS and personal time to swim in lake "me."

Trial 2: The 4th of July
I basically worked on the 4th of July on what I wished and hoped was my "vacation." Unfortunately, I spent my 4th serving bikers, church-going folk, and teenagers. Basically my Mother-in-law has a nasty habit of inviting a bunch of people over to her house for the holiday, but no clue (or bank roll) to feed the incoming guests. That's where my wife, my Sister-in-law and I come into play, being the rich Yankee folks that we are. (*Sigh*)

Those weren't her exact words, but it sucks to feel taken advantage of when she puts us in this situation and expect us to bail her out and pay for it. Why invite guests to the house with NO FOOD in the house at all! The 3 of us were just this side of a "Stay-cation" and she springs this on us in the morning of the 4th to spend money, 90% of which, I'm not related to!

Trial 3: The Drive Back
This was the only part of the vacation that went off without a hitch. I was given the joyous task of driving through 3 states to get back to NoVa. It may sound hokey, but despite my whiny niece and nephews, it was a very relaxing drive and you get a chance to really appreciate all the beauty this country has to offer.

L8er.

Power Struggle...

2008-06-18T23:36:00.002-04:00

I apologize once again for the lack of updates, but I actually have an idiotically stupid reason why: I suck at life. That aside I had the shock of my life on Friday the 13th (*ironic gasp*) only to find that none of my electricity worked in my house. Jammed in my screen door is a note stating that I haven't paid the electric bill, and that they've sent me 2 notices by mail (never received folks!).

So we walk in the house and there's a stench of just non-air conditioned must in the air. Everything that was illuminated and functional was dark and uncommunicative.

Considering the fact that I was batting a thousand by paying the wrong bill instead of the electric bill, my wife decided to make that phone call to the power company.

"Ma'am we've sent you 2 notices of non-payment."

"Really?!? Feel free to take a look at our payment history, we consistently pay on-time and all of a sudden we would just stop paying hoping you wouldn't shut off the power? That would be foolish!" my wife said.

"Yeah your record is pretty consistent."

"Well let's go ahead and pay it now. What's the soonest we can expect power?" my wife asked.

"The earliest we could restart the power would be Monday."

"MONDAY!" we exclaimed in unison.

This is where a fundamental difference between my wife and I showed through.

My theory would be to pay them on Monday to get our service back on Monday. Why give them the satisfaction of getting their money NOW if I'm going to suffer in the house with no power for 2 days?

Her theory is to pay them as soon as possible to get on their schedule to flip our switch on Monday regardless of the fact that we're paying excruciatingly early. Also this included late fees, service charges and a $75 security deposit.

Still I was no position to argue since this was my screw up, so I piped down and gave her my debit card.

"Don't you have anyone that lives close to us that can do us a favor and turn our electricity back on?" my wife pleaded.

"I'm afraid not. The only people we have on call are linemen and they're only trained to deal with downed power lines."

So for those of you keeping score at home, they have trained chimps whose job is to turn electric power to customers in arrears off and on, however; trained linemen who deal with thousands of volts of electricity during snow and thunderstorms are not competent enough to flip a switch and turn on my electricity, at no danger to themselves or others.

Just checking.

**Aside: I have to give this spouse of mine credit where credit is due. She could've flown off the handle, packed her bags, went to her sister's house and asked me to have my things out by tomorrow. She could have gone postal and started a screaming tirade starting with how much of an idiot I am, and ending with how much I'm going to pay for the divorce. She could've vowed to never fulfill her wifely duties for the next 8 months!

She did none of the above. She was "angry at the situation and not at me."**

"So what do you want for dinner?" I murmured.

"I'm not in a good place right now Darian. You don't want me in public right now..."

"Look. I f-ed up, but that doesn't mean we have to starve. Its 85 degrees in here. What's done is done. Let's go to a nice, air-conditioned restaurant and get ready for tonight."

Twenty minutes later, we more or less sat at the restaurant in silence. I give her the benefit that she was trying to make small talk. I don' know whose venom was worse: Her venom for me, her venom for our power company or my venom for myself.

Friday night was nightmare! NoVa was way too muggy to open the windows at night and sleep upstairs so we were relegated to the Basement hotel.

No futons here folks. In our basement/entertainment center we have an electrically dim: TiVo Box, Bose surround sound system, a 51 inch plasma television, a 4-year old overstuffed chair with ottoman and an overstuffed couch.

Given that I had made the error and was in for a hot sticky night in the cooler basement, I took the chair and ottoman and got about 5 hours of sleep and a crick in my neck and back. T, more or less slept comfortably, but only as well as expected considering the circumstances.

Saturday and Sunday we had grown accustomed to our Amish-like lifestyle and mentally we were racing to the Monday finish-line to return to our electric laced lives.

We made doubly and triply sure that they would be turning our power back on consider how early they had our cash. Everything came off without a hitch, but this snafu was something for the record books. I'm going to be hearing about this screw up well into my 70s.

Oh well...L8er.

Idiots say the darndest things...

2008-06-04T00:30:00.001-04:00

I wish to expound on one of the points I made in my previous post about some women choosing to pursue me because of the fabled taboo of dating outside of your race. In this short 20 something span that I call a life, there's been quite a few one liners directed at me and meant to be taken as compliments, but are really just outright foolishness.

Now before you jump down my throat and say that I'm playing the race card, allow me to retort: all of these "compliments" were met with the following: a blank stare, a gawk, and a befuddled "wow" and that was the reaction of the witnesses. I said nothing because reacting negatively would further support their skewed view of African-Americans on the whole. I also feel, why waste my breath with a clever retort, when everyone around me feels it's not warranted. You don't reward stupid.

The first liner comes from a chum of mine in college. She lived a very charmed life of privilege and I represented the only sliver of diversity in her existence. I have no beef with her, because we're still close to this day. I don't hold it against her that I'm her only Black friend and never will. We were talking about a race relations class that I was taking and I was merely saying how interesting it became when we began to talk about dating outside of one's race. I said, "My parents basically gave me carte blanche because I didn't date too much in High School, but I don't know how my parents would react." She said, "If I came home and told my parents I was dating you, they would be happy and fine with it. If I came home with any other Black guy...I don't think they would take it well."

Now to her credit, that's not exactly ALL her fault. However, I never looked at her parents the same way again, because it was plain to me that they didn't consider me Black.

However this next example is on the other end of the spectrum. He was a fellow I knew in High School, and he was from a lower middle class family. He has quite a few Black friends but this still came out of his mouth at random. He actually interrupted out conversation with this, "You know what Darian, you're a cool guy and you're a great friend. You're like an Oreo cookie. Black on the outside and White on the inside." YES PEOPLE! I've had acquaintances that actually FORGOT that I was Black.

He considered me White because I had the ability to code switch, I got pretty good grades, and I kept my nose pretty clean. For some reason in his mixed up head, he considered those "White traits." Despite the very fact that he was White, and the exact polar opposite of me.

***aside: Code switching: It's basically the African-American version of Windtalking. It is the phenomena of speaking one way around one group of friends and speaking another way around another separate group of friends; i.e., using inside joke vernacular around your buddies, but not around your mother.***

And the Coup de Grace was in High School again, during Black History Month. The only span of 28 days where we study people that look like me. The class nerd raises his hand and asks, "Why isn't there a White History Month." Everyone in the room grilled him for being so daft and insensitive. But the teacher smirked and said, "We study White People everyday." Then a student chimed in, "Yeah, everyday is White History Month you Ass! Now shut up!"

I've always lived my life as the "exception to the black stereotype". Not "like the others" in their words. I prefer it that way, because the expectations are advertised on T.V. and rap videos that I should be rough and angry. White men of this idiotic mindset automatically think that I'm trying to date their sister, or trying to steal their girlfriend because I'm Black. White women think my "member" is huge, and that I'm trying to get into their pants because I'm a Black guy, and I actually speak to them as people as opposed to sexual prospects.

I can assure you that none of these idiots have affected me to a point where I would stop talking to White people all together. I don't believe in throwing out the baby with the bathwater. One cannot blame the flaws of one person on an entire race. All I ask is for the same patience in return.

L8er.

The Reunion Plot Thickens...

2008-05-29T21:27:00.006-04:00

Why is it anything that you happen to do out of sheer nostalgia, like signing up for Classmates.com while in college, comes back like an errant boomerang?

I receive a random message from Classmates.com that "Someone wants to reconnect with you!" Translation = someone you knew in High School is trying to stalk you in the hopes that their unrequited love for you can be fulfilled.

90 percent of the time, I presume this message to be junk mail, however; in a brief moment of weakness, and considering the person I ran into last week, I bit. It turned out to be a girl that I held a huge torch for and she chooses now to tell me that the feeling was mutual. And given: I'm no Brad Pitt or some big, sexy, chocolate piece of Man Candy, but I don't believe I'm hideous!

Also, considering the love connection could have been interracial (**facetious gasp**), the other question I asked myself before deciding not to pursue her was, "Is she looking to date me, or looking to date a black guy."

Now some may say that dating me is dating a black guy, but that's not what I mean. There are some women that I've met that seemed to be more interested in the whole, "Me and you against my parents and the world" thing as opposed to dating Darian, flaws and all. They seem to be more interested in showing you off to her plain-Jane friends that find you so "deep" and "strong and silent" or showing her father just how big of a rebel she can be, but I digress(as always!).

Another question, what is it with women that prefer to give you one last shot at a love affair? Follow up questions, why do they choose to proposition you in your yearbook? It pissed me off that I've been going to school with these women for a minimum of 4 years, and in some cases, my entire school career! You feel heat, and a connection with this woman, but there are obstacles:

They're dating your best friend
They're your best friend's little sister
Your best friend already dated her, and your risk the ire of your best friend and your inner circle

I've been in all three of these situations, and I've never fully acted on any of them in fear of retribution or that it won't work out.

So in the case of this person trying to reconnect with me, she fulfilled the first bullet point. Upon our first meeting, she was dating my best friend since Elementary school. We flirted, we chatted, and I would protect her in his absence, but there has never even one date between us.

Senior year, she hasn't dated him in 2 years and I still never worked up the nerve to ask her out. She then writes the infamous message in my yearbook about how she's yearned for me for the last 2 years, and to "give her a call."

So I go to the Classmates website and find that she's still single, attractive and is waiting with baited breath to see me at the reunion.

Now part of this is my fault. I was the one who didn't "man-up" and ask her out on a date or something. But to be glib, what is it with you women and timing?

L8er.

Everyone has a price...?

2008-05-21T18:42:00.006-04:00

Today was quite a curious afternoon. I actually had to only work half of the day today, so I had the opportunity to get a few errands done and managed to get lost on the way to one of them. Anyway, while I was on the other side of town, I went to a small general store owned by one of my clients.

He's a good guy with a wife and child, and in his 40s. I found it curious when he came in with this business idea that he was opening in a neighboring town. His idea was a moderately priced Dollar Store, but instead of importing everything from Asia, he chose to focus on the untapped European exporters. On paper a great idea, but I give him mad props for not being afraid to fail. However, in this economy, Small Businesses, especially Rookie businesses fall victim to the almighty tightening of the purse strings.

So anyway, I always make it a point to visit when I get the chance and do a little shopping at the same time. He welcomed me in as usual but told me he's going to sell the store at the end of the month. Mainly the rent is too high and the income on the store is too low, despite the low overhead.

So while I was checking out, we started talking about fraud and fraudsters in our respective industries. He then brought up a friend and former co-worker of his was caught up in the Tax Fraud Scandal involving the bank manager and the D.C. Tax Office.

"I was just reading about it online, and I just couldn't believe it. She was such a nice person and always treated me great. I guess it goes to show you that everyone has a price," he said.

He continued, "I just hope that bad people never meet my price, because we're all human. If someone asked me to rob a bank for $50,000.00, I would probably call the police and have them reported. If someone asked me to rob a bank for $500,000.00, I would ask 'What bank!?!' "

This made me think, does everyone have a price?

Is the only thing keeping us from a upright citizenship and moral decay a dollar amount? Maybe I'm being a bit to idealistic, but what about the value of one's word? What about doing the right thing consistently? Is it all a matter of waiting for the right ne'erdowell to offer us the right amount of money, and we'll pursue illegality with reckless abandon? Are we all that vapid and morally bankrupt?

I have no idea but it sure is something to think about. Do you have a price or an opinion on this subject? Comment away!

L8er.

Class Reunion...

2008-05-13T21:18:00.001-04:00

So believe it or not, my 10 year class reunion is coming up, and I'm not quite sure how to take it. On one hand, I'm excited to see how everyone is doing and catch up on old times; a straight-up nostalgia-fest! On the other hand, I'm a bit unnerved at the prospect of having my lovely wife, T, find out about just how big of a NERD her husband WAS in High School.

The topic of this lovely Shindig came up by accident. I was working my second job, when a familiar face came in to make a return. These situations always seem to put me in a pickle because I've taken a staunch stance on crossing paths with associates from High School: If I recognize someone from school and the other person doesn't recognize me, I don't bother telling them who I am. I feel that saying "Hey, remember me from high school?" is just this side of being the "Creepy guy from high school that just never learned to let go of the past."

The problem is I remember this guy when I was IN high school! I'm unafraid to admit that in HS I was a choirboy, literally! There was a high level of seniority in the choir game, but it was always prudent to pass the torch to the next generation during your Senor year, so in a way you're leaving the legacy of greatness to the Juniors. During my first year in choir, there was guy that left for college, but just kept coming back. I easily saw him 3 times a week, which is normal for the newly graduated. Then I saw him the next year. He just couldn't let go. He came to all of the performances, hid in my choir teacher's office, played jokes, sat in on the class...it was quite sad.

So anyway, I saw this girl from school and suddenly she began to get this look in her eyes...and then she said, "Don't I know you from somewhere?" A part of me panicked. Understand that I enjoy my second job, but not enough to be caught by a girl who was pretty popular in HS to catch me at my second job as opposed to my career where I have a desk, an office, a wedding photo, a job title, you know, any semblance of success!?!

I know what your thinking, "Why do you give a flying fig about an 'associate' you had in HS and what she thinks about you?" That's a great question to which I have no answer except to explain the theory of reversion. It's actually quite simple: It's the way your mother treats you whenever she sees you. She treats you like you still live at home even if you have your own wife, home, income and several offspring.

So now this girl from school decides to go in for the kill, "Did I go to High School with you?" I relent, "yes." She responds, "Wow! You look great! Do you know about the reunion?" I answer "No." She then continues to fill me in about the time and date and asks for my email so she can send me the invitation.

After work and getting over the morbid embarrassment, I called my best friend, Lance. Way back in the day, he held a bit of a candle for this girl. "Does she still look great?" I answered, "Yes. Actually I believe she may be a zombie, because she looks the exact same as she did in HS, which is a bit unfair. It's as if she bought a Cryogenic Chamber of Youth." Lance of course was floored, and follows up his awe of her with, "So are we going?"

I then brought up the vow we made to each other about the Reunion. If he goes, then I will go and vice-versa. The other vow was to go without our girlfriends or spouses for 2 reasons:

the flirt factor and Wingman plays that could be made if one or both of us happens to be single
The escape factor in the event that the Reunion is completely wack and warrants a hasty exit

Now the first of these reasons is null and void, due to the fact that we're both happily married in our lives. The second factor however frightens me, and we will both be fighting tooth and nail with our spouses that the reason for going alone isn't for the flirt factor.

Have you ever tried to leave someone at a party or a get-together with a date and you have that heavy talker that just keeps putting the screws to you like a walking Anchor? When you're alone you have the latitude to go the bathroom and make a break for it.

So why do you go to HS Reunions? Is it the Maury reason: "In High School I was wack, but now I've got back?" Is it the Morbid Curiosity that Lance and I shared? Do you agree with our theory about going to the reunion sans spouses because it's easier to leave? Hit me up with some comments, because we're gonna need some advice about this one.

L8er.

I'm so sorry for the lack of updates...

2008-05-10T01:15:00.003-04:00

Hey people, I'm so sorry that I haven't been to the site in a while. Also, mad props to my girl the Disaffected Scanner Jockey for giving my a big ups on her website. I've been sick as a dog, and I'm just getting back to regular life.

It all started with chills and fever on Sunday and an "upper respiratory infection" knocked me on my ass from Monday through Thursday. I'm back now, and please expect regular updates coming soon. Thank you so much for reading and giving me a chance. Much appreciated and reciprocated!

L8er.

Girls That You Meet in the Club...

2008-04-24T22:14:00.003-04:00

I recently went to a club for my older Sister's birthday, and I was completely flummoxed by the new menu being offered to men in the club. I couldn't imagine being single nowadays because I would probably get less play than High School and College combined, which was few and far between. Anyway, here's the list:

The "Everything BUT the Pole" dancer - This is a woman who dances as suggestively as possible, and actually poses for pictures for the pervs that brought their Camera-Phone. She wears next to nothing and is also known as "the complete ho bag" of the group. Studies have shown that you can actually contract a venereal disease, just by watching.
The "Drunk Chick" - She desperately wants to be the dancer chick referenced above, but unfortunately she started drinking 7:30 this morning. She has no short term memory or tolerance for anything she's drinking. Tends to sound like James Earl Jones the morning after.
The Girl with the "Hypothetical Boyfriend" - This is a girl I've run into very often. She has a boyfriend, but not really. She probably more attractive than the previous 2, but she's untouchable because her "Hypothetical Boyfriend" is standing guard ready to strike if you show the slightest interest in "his girl." If you're UFC fighter or have a high tolerance for getting your ass kicked, she's the girl for you.
Supa Ho - This is the evolution of the "Everything BUT the Pole" dancer. She is the Jedi Knight of Hos, complete with light saber and hooker heels. Her job is to upstage every pole dancer in the club, but specifically targets committed men.
Delusional Girl - This is a girl that actually believes that you can find a "good man" in a club. She falls "in love" with the first guy that is sober enough to pay attention to her and would love to go back to this gentleman's apartment to "talk" but is derailed by...
Mother Hen - She's less attractive than Delusional Girl and is her best friend. She's also the grenade...wait...nuke that your best wingman would have to jump on and appease in order for you to get to Delusional Girl. Unfortunately, the chorus of "We ARRIVED together, We LEAVE together" is joined by...
Sour Girl - Who also sings the chorus of "My friend's dragged me here!" I REALLY HATE clubs!" There's no real reason why this girl showed up to the club other than she is a sheep that just follows the crowd. She also makes it a point to never reveal who true feelings to the chums that "dragged" her to the club. Secretly, she's glad to be there.

Surely this isn't an exhaustive list, but it's a nice start.

L8er.

The Kid Question...

2008-04-10T22:24:00.001-04:00

One of the most interesting things about being young and married is the inevitable question:

"So when a you gonna have kids? "

It's not like I don't expect this question. T & I are young, healthy, and for the time being childless. In the African American tradition, we're once again, "bucking the trend." At the same time, I can't help but find this question to be a bit unnerving.

Then with a Federal District Attorney's relentlessness, you get the follow up question:

"Well...do you like kids?"

This ladies and gentleman, is when the wicket gets a bit sticky, because the entire tone of the conversation hinges on your answer to this question. In my opinion you have 4 options as far as an answer; each having their strengths and weaknesses.

"For breakfast!" Atta boy! Answer a serious question with sarcasm. Especially when you're dealing with anyone older than you, with kids, you're asking for it with this answer.
"Nope." Straight to the point, but one of two things will happen. You will either get the follow up "Why?" and if that's your answer get ready for your dancing shoes. The other reply you may receive is an uncomfortable, "...ok..." which to me means, Congratulations, you'll never be asked this question again, but you've alienated your curious questioner.
"Yes." Which means you'll definitely be faced with the follow up, "When?" and if that's the case get ready to explain your entire family planning road map.
"I love 'em!" Which could make your questioner even more uncomfortable when a full grown adult that doesn't work in a child based industry, answers with that level of zeal. Don't be surprised if the authorities visit your home for hostages.

My normal answer is "Yes...eventually." At this point the monologue about how rewarding and life-changing that rearing children are begins to unfurl. For once, I would love to receive credit for approaching procreation with such a fiscally responsible attitude. My wife and I are paying for a home for the next 30 years and a new vehicle for the next 6 years. The average cost of a child per month in my income bracket is $625 per month.

Now don't get me wrong! I'm not going to sit here and say that I'm going to wait until I completely pay everything off before choosing to procreate. What I am saying is that I wish to make sure that I am able to afford everything I need for this child. What I usually hear then is "You can never afford a child!"

Let's just say I'm saving up for a kid!

L8er.

Darian's Food Theory

2008-04-06T20:14:00.000-04:00

Hello once again. So I was talking to some friends at my other job, and I starting thinking about my food theory again. I know that it's incredibly left-brained of me(i used to separate my succotash and color-coordinate my skittles), but I separate foods into two distinct groups: Commitment Foods, and Non-Commitment Foods.

Commitment Foods are the foods for which I have developed a certain process, and I will completely avoid or save until later to fully enjoy my process, or too complicate to fully enjoy. The following are examples of commitment foods and the process necessary:

Skittles - Need to be organized according to the color wheel (ROYGBIV) and the same goes for M&Ms
Oreos - Needs a glass or bowl of milk, completely separated into a wad of creme filling and a stack of cookies to be enjoyed separately, cookies first.
Butterfinger - needs to be eaten at home or among friends due to the Butterfinger filling getting stuck in your teeth
Submarine Sandwich - Needs to be plated
Succotash - Needs to be split into Lima Beans and Corn and enjoyed separately, Beans first
3 Musketeers Candy Bar - Chocolaty shell is eaten first leaving the chocolate nougat to enjoy separately
Peanut Butter Trix - Peanut Butter scrapped off of the bar and then the cookie enjoyed
Utz Ripple Cut Sour Cream & Onion Potato Chips - (or any chips for that matter) The most heavily flavored chips are saved for last
Tuna/Chicken Salad - Referencing the "best chips" highlighted above, are to be placed inside the sandwich and enjoyed mixed together.
And the most difficult of all commitment foods: Combos. They're miniature pretzel or cracker snacks in tiny short rolls with a cheesy or tangy center. My complicated process with these is to crack the Combo, like an acorn, remove the flavor filling and eat the shells, THEN eat all the filling at once similar to the Oreo process.

WOW! I'm a psychopath.

L8er.

My Szechuan Soul Sista...

2008-04-05T23:42:00.000-04:00

As I told you earlier, I'm in the Financial Services Industry, but I've also picked up a second job, at a local mall. The mall is kinda where I got my start, so I'm never ashamed to go back to earn a little extra money. I work for a clothing outfitter with a very thick Eurasian fan base.

So I was working there this evening and I ran in to a very interesting Asian pair: a mother and her daughter. The mother had to be in her early 60s and her daughter into her early 30s. The daughter was making a purchase and I asked for her I.D. She handed me her driver's license, and her mother said, "You look like a FOB in that picture." The daughter said, "Yeah, that picture was taken a while ago. Turning to me, the daughter asked, "Do you know what a 'FOB' means?" I shrugged and told her no. She said, "A FOB means that I look like I'm Fresh Off the Boat."

I totaled her purchase and gave them the price. The Mother then said to me, "Well, since a lot of this stuff is so high-end, hows about a discount?" I tried to laugh it off, but this old bird was persistent. "Come on, I speak homeboy, how about a 'brudda-sista' discount?" Taken aback from that comment, I couldn't contain my laughter. "Come on! I know you have a 'brudda-sista' discount! I know we not brudda and sista, but hook me up!" My laughter continued. She then said, "Come on brudda, I'm T-pain's mudda. Hook me up!" I again cheerfully declined and at this point, her daughter was completely embarrassed. The mother said, "He laughing, it's OK!"

On one end, I could have been completely offended by her comment, but it's best never to take yourself too seriously. She was trying to get a rise out of me and inject a bit of levity, and for that, she'll forever have my respect. Just no discounts.

L8er.

Gassholes!

2008-04-04T19:46:00.000-04:00

I'm fresh from a trip to my weekly wallet raping, A.K.A. refueling my vehicle. There's a gas station right up the street from my job that I've frequented especially this past week. I pulled up to pump 1, and at most stations, if they wish for you to pay cash up front, there's usually a sign posted to do so.

I stood there for 7 minutes repeatedly flipping the gas pump on and off so that I may pump my gas, to no avail. I then waited in line for 3 minutes and asked for pump 1 to be turned on. He said, "I'm sorry. It's very busy and we've had drive-offs and I don't have a lot of customer confidence right now." I said, I completely understand that, but why don't you have a sign posted. He said again, "I've had drive-offs, I'm sorry." I said, I WORK NEXT DOOR! I've bought gas and candy bars from here several times. Here's my name tag! Meanwhile, people next to me are paying for gas and other Quickie Mart staples, but for some odd reason, I have to pay for my gas upfront. I tried not to sweat it, handed the man $30 and tried to k.i.m. (keep it moving)

Now people, I TRIED! I TRIED SO HARD, to be the bigger man, swallow my pride and get my gas and be on my merry way, but I couldn't. I stopped just short of the door, waited in line for another 5 minutes and promptly asked for my refund. He said, "I don't understand." I told him that obviously he's having a bad day with customers, and I would just like to come back when you're having a better day. He once again feigned understanding.

"What do you mean bad day?", he said.

"Sir, I would just like my money back." I said.

"Is there something wrong with the pump?"

"No, I just wish to get my gas elsewhere, since I have to pay upfront for some reason."

"You're being very unfair. You're showing your name tag as if I should recognize you!"

(Now mind you, I dress very classic and old school, complete with a derby. At this point I had bought candy and gum there 2 days straight.) I demanded my money and finally he relented.

His gas pumping underling followed me to my car and apologized, but the damage was already done.

Now mind you, I make a conscience effort everyday as an African-American to not play the race card. But when you get to a point when you're crossing all the other reasons for this disservice in your mind, you get to a point where the color of your skin is all you have left. That's quite sad in a world where most people don't believe that discrimination no longer exists, and is nothing more than a figment of one's imagination. It's not the first, and won't be the last.

L8er

Hello, it's me...

2008-04-03T20:18:00.000-04:00

I'm sure your first thought is, "who the hell is this guy, and why am i reading his blog?" Well, sir or madame, that's a great question!

First off, the name is Darian, and I'm a gentleman who was in desperate need of an outlet to rant and rave. I spend my days in the Financial Service Industry and working for my loving spouse(named, T) and our lovely cat(named Poo-Poo).

I'm sure the second thought is, "what's a Vicenarian?" Well to save you from dictionary.com, it is someone in their 20's, like me, and yes I will edit the title when I turn 30(in three short years).

I live in Northern Virginia and there's a reason why we accentuate the compass direction. The rest of Virginia is very much Southern and I have Southern roots in my family, however; Virginia, like North Carolina and the rest of the South tends to make one assume that we have Southern Accents, which is nonexistent in Northern Virginia. Given, NoVa is a transient society, and we live in a "Southern State" but we're not Southern. You can't find the lovely fried food, southern drawls, or sweet tea anywhere but McDonalds(which is quite maddening!).

I've lived many different types of existences, despite my fairly young age including the life of a work-a-holic (working 3 different jobs, 5 days a week), a shy youth trying to find his way, and as an Podunk on-air radio personality.

And now I wish to finish this entry with a résumé like entry with a run-down of Strengths and Opportunities for Improvement, just so you know what you're getting into from the gitty-up.

My strengths: hard-working, loyal, a sense of humor, style, calm, focus, a people-person, a consummate perfectionist

My opportunities for improvement: patience, organizational skills, follow-through, "letting it go", a consummate perfectionist

L8er