The Groundhog Adventure

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

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?

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...

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:

1. 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.
2. It could create a "Sign War" with other neighbors.  One political sign can inspire others which could divide neighbors and the neighborhood.
3. 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

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"

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...

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.