A funny thing happened on the way to playing golf with the boys this weekend. We met at LJ's and as we were getting ready to leave LJ discovered he had locked his keys in the house.
Fortunately, he has a spare key hidden. Unfortunately, the spare key was hidden in the garage. Even more unfortunately, the garage was locked. Fortunately, it's not the best area--LJ's actually had a few things stolen there before--so none of the neighbors thought anything of seeing three guys prying open a garage door in broad daylight.
Golf was good. We went to Valley Landing. I shot a 101 and got a little bit sunburned. In March! I actually sort of like the first sunburn of the year. It's invigorating. Just another little reminder that summer is on the way and the seasons will be following their usual pattern just as they have since the last ice age. It's comforting. Well, besides the pain and burning when I shower.
After golf, we decided to hang out at LJ's and watch some of the NCAA tournament. I don't think I'd even sat down yet when I noticed it.
"Did you vacuum?"
"Yep."
Well that can only mean one thing, my friends: He's having a girl over.
We bachelors sometimes have a tendency to let things go a little around the house. Laundry piles up. The kitchen table becomes a collection area for junk mail and last year's Christmas presents. With our busy golf-a-day lives, menial tasks like dusting, vacuuming, and putting a trash bag in the trash can sometimes get put on the backburner.
But as soon as there is the impending presence of a female on the premises, we all turn into tub scrubbing carpet cleaners.
To my knowledge, LJ hasn't dated much recently. We're not talking in terms of months or years here. We're talking Presidential administrations. So I could not say with 100% certainty that he had ever cleaned his house since he moved in a few years ago. I guess that's why the clean carpet stood out to me almost immediately.
The Darryls went to a speed dating thing a few weeks ago, which is where LJ met this girl. (Girl, woman, which is it? At what point does a girl become a woman? Nevermind, don't answer that.)
So, it appears the latex glove is on the other foot, er, hand now. On the plus side, I'm looking forward to a much cleaner, more fastidious environment for our future GH roundtable discussions.
Kidding around, sort of, I told LJ we were going to have to live vicariously through him now that he has a girlfriend. He remarked what a change that was as they were usually the ones living vicariously through me. At which point I remarked about how very sad that was and spent awhile contemplating my life and wondering where it all went wrong.
While we were shooting pool, LJ's woman called. (See? Now I'm calling her woman. I don't get it.) After trying a couple of shots with the phone wedged between his ear and shoulder, he put the phone down on the table without saying a word and shot while she yammered on. Wolfgang and I were literally in the floor laughing.
Then I suddenly remembered having done that very same thing before. At the very same table.
Of course, that occurred during a previous administration.
"Now I'm holding umbrellas and openin' up doors. I'm taking out the trash and I'm sweepin' my floors..."
Showing posts with label pool. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pool. Show all posts
Monday, March 23, 2009
Monday, March 02, 2009
Love me, love me, say that you love me
Remember that song? Lovefool. Cardigans. 1996. It's been stuck in my head. All. Weekend. Long. I've been walking around singing it in my well-polished falsetto, which I first honed while imitating the inimitable Jordan Knight on "I'll Be Loving You Forever" in 1989.
The ability to get a song stuck in someone else's head is one of my little known talents. Some might even say an annoyance. Still, for some reason I was having a bit of trouble getting anybody to pick up on this one.
Saturday night, we went ice skating at the local ice complex, tween hangout & Brian Boitano training facility. (Actually, I just made the Brian Boitano part up.) There were six in our group--Kywana, myself, Little Joe, and two minors. That's down forty-five percent from last year's Valentine Date Skate. I blame the decrease largely on the threat of Winter Storm '09, which would leave us buried beneath half an inch of snow by Sunday morning.
Skating was fairly uneventful. I fell three times, which as I stated last year is actually pretty fun. Honestly, I think I could start calling it body sledding and have all the kids doing it. I've always wanted to be the person who started something. Like the Macarena. Or the wave. Or the guy in that Michael Jackson song, Wanna Be Startin' Somethin'.
There was an entertaining little guy dressed in a toboggan who kept trying to teach us tricks. I assume he worked there, but he could have just been a poser. Anyway, he was kinda corny. He made me think of somebody who would've been on Mister Rogers Neighborhood. Say if Mister Rogers took his neighbors to an ice rink during an episode, this would be the guy at the ice rink showing Mister Rogers around.
As we were getting ready to leave, the female fragment of Kywana looked over at all our shoes sitting underneath a bench.
"Who's shoes are those?" she asked.
"Those are Little Joe's," I responded, shielding my eyes. I already knew which pair she was referring to. That would be the blindingly bright brand new solid white Reeboks. LJ has been wearing solid white Reeboks since the 80's and hasn't looked back. I honestly don't know how he keeps finding places that sell them. They looked like something you'd see on display in a shoe museum.
After skating, I headed over to LJ's and wound up shooting pool with him and Wolfgang for a bit. LJ had gone to the bathroom or something and it was his turn, so we were just standing around waiting. Without warning and probably without thinking, Wolfgang busted out in song.
"Love me, love me, say that you love me."
Yessss! Still got it.
"Leave me, leave me, just say that you need me. I don't care about anything but you..."
The ability to get a song stuck in someone else's head is one of my little known talents. Some might even say an annoyance. Still, for some reason I was having a bit of trouble getting anybody to pick up on this one.
Saturday night, we went ice skating at the local ice complex, tween hangout & Brian Boitano training facility. (Actually, I just made the Brian Boitano part up.) There were six in our group--Kywana, myself, Little Joe, and two minors. That's down forty-five percent from last year's Valentine Date Skate. I blame the decrease largely on the threat of Winter Storm '09, which would leave us buried beneath half an inch of snow by Sunday morning.
Skating was fairly uneventful. I fell three times, which as I stated last year is actually pretty fun. Honestly, I think I could start calling it body sledding and have all the kids doing it. I've always wanted to be the person who started something. Like the Macarena. Or the wave. Or the guy in that Michael Jackson song, Wanna Be Startin' Somethin'.
There was an entertaining little guy dressed in a toboggan who kept trying to teach us tricks. I assume he worked there, but he could have just been a poser. Anyway, he was kinda corny. He made me think of somebody who would've been on Mister Rogers Neighborhood. Say if Mister Rogers took his neighbors to an ice rink during an episode, this would be the guy at the ice rink showing Mister Rogers around.
As we were getting ready to leave, the female fragment of Kywana looked over at all our shoes sitting underneath a bench.
"Who's shoes are those?" she asked.
"Those are Little Joe's," I responded, shielding my eyes. I already knew which pair she was referring to. That would be the blindingly bright brand new solid white Reeboks. LJ has been wearing solid white Reeboks since the 80's and hasn't looked back. I honestly don't know how he keeps finding places that sell them. They looked like something you'd see on display in a shoe museum.
After skating, I headed over to LJ's and wound up shooting pool with him and Wolfgang for a bit. LJ had gone to the bathroom or something and it was his turn, so we were just standing around waiting. Without warning and probably without thinking, Wolfgang busted out in song.
"Love me, love me, say that you love me."
Yessss! Still got it.
"Leave me, leave me, just say that you need me. I don't care about anything but you..."
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Expectant mothers, Nintendo, & the bachelor
Well, I haven't been blogging much lately. That could be attributed to a number of things, such as being exhausted from NaBloSoThaDraWe, which with at least two participants including me was a rousing success. (Thanks, Eileen.) But I think mostly it comes down to the fact that I haven't been typing things in this box and hitting publish much lately. I've done that like zero times in the past ten days.
It was quite an eventful weekend for me, though. Friday night, I hung out with the Darryls. We did your typical guy stuff. Shot pool, discussed the latest happenings on General Hospital, and even sang a bit of karaoke without music. (I know what you're saying. Is it still considered karaoke without the music, Bone? And all I have to say to that is, probably not.) It was all very manly though, not that I needed to clarify that or anything.
Saturday night, I went to a friend's 40th birthday celebration. At some point in the evening, I found myself in a not uncommon position for a bachelor, wedged between two pregnant women. Not physically. Well, sort of. Anyway, that was even more fun than it sounds.
Unfortunately, I didn't plan ahead, and had no signal to get me out of a conversation, such as head patting or chicken wing. So there I sat, as they discussed contractions, itchy stomachs, minivans, and dilations. Who knew pregnancy affected the eyes!
I found myself unable to contribute much to the conversation, since my gynecology knowledge is pretty much limited to Nuvaring commercials. But I wanted to learn what I could, figuring it could always come in handy later. So during a break in the conversation, I chimed in with, "So what exactly does a contraction feel like?" Not long after that, I went over and started petting the dog.
After the party, I went back to Kywana's for a bit. It's what the kids call the "after party." They had downloaded Super Mario Brothers for the Wii, so we were all taking turns playing. Then when it got to Kywana Junior's turn to play, she asked her mother, "What do I do?"
Oh my gosh. She's never played. It was like I had stepped on a rake and the handle smacked me in the face. Except that I didn't cry. I was sad for her at first, because she had never played Super Mario Brothers. Then I was sad for me, because I was old.
All turned out well though. It wound up being sort of like a little video game history lesson. Early Mario World Civilization 101: The Origins Of Mario Kart.
Tune in next time when I offer Bone's Helpful Lamaze Tips. And also provide an editorial commentary on why Luigi got the shaft. Or maybe I'll just blog about the Olympics.
"Her boyfriend, he don't know, anything about her. He's too stoned, Nintendo. I wish that I could make her see, she's just the flavor of the weak..."
It was quite an eventful weekend for me, though. Friday night, I hung out with the Darryls. We did your typical guy stuff. Shot pool, discussed the latest happenings on General Hospital, and even sang a bit of karaoke without music. (I know what you're saying. Is it still considered karaoke without the music, Bone? And all I have to say to that is, probably not.) It was all very manly though, not that I needed to clarify that or anything.
Saturday night, I went to a friend's 40th birthday celebration. At some point in the evening, I found myself in a not uncommon position for a bachelor, wedged between two pregnant women. Not physically. Well, sort of. Anyway, that was even more fun than it sounds.
Unfortunately, I didn't plan ahead, and had no signal to get me out of a conversation, such as head patting or chicken wing. So there I sat, as they discussed contractions, itchy stomachs, minivans, and dilations. Who knew pregnancy affected the eyes!
I found myself unable to contribute much to the conversation, since my gynecology knowledge is pretty much limited to Nuvaring commercials. But I wanted to learn what I could, figuring it could always come in handy later. So during a break in the conversation, I chimed in with, "So what exactly does a contraction feel like?" Not long after that, I went over and started petting the dog.
After the party, I went back to Kywana's for a bit. It's what the kids call the "after party." They had downloaded Super Mario Brothers for the Wii, so we were all taking turns playing. Then when it got to Kywana Junior's turn to play, she asked her mother, "What do I do?"
Oh my gosh. She's never played. It was like I had stepped on a rake and the handle smacked me in the face. Except that I didn't cry. I was sad for her at first, because she had never played Super Mario Brothers. Then I was sad for me, because I was old.
All turned out well though. It wound up being sort of like a little video game history lesson. Early Mario World Civilization 101: The Origins Of Mario Kart.
Tune in next time when I offer Bone's Helpful Lamaze Tips. And also provide an editorial commentary on why Luigi got the shaft. Or maybe I'll just blog about the Olympics.
"Her boyfriend, he don't know, anything about her. He's too stoned, Nintendo. I wish that I could make her see, she's just the flavor of the weak..."
Monday, June 25, 2007
When you can't fight it, you can't fight it
Bachelor Tip of the Day: You do not make chocolate milk by mixing milk and Hershey's cocoa powder. Despite however logical it may sound, it does not work.
Addendum: When it says "unsweetened" on the Hershey's can, they mean it.
I hung out at Little Joe's last Sunday night with him and Wolfgang. We shot pool for a bit and may or may not have been making small non-monetary wagers on the games.
Little Joe is the last person I personally know who still connected to the internet at 28800 bits per second. He has only been off dial-up for a couple of weeks now, and therefore is just discovering that empire of time-wasting delights known as YouTube. (MySpace would also fit there, but he has not yet discovered that. Although I should tell him about it so I can be #1 on his top eight!)
LJ informed us that his YouTube adventures included downloading music videos from the 80's along with General Hospital clips from the 90's. Well, I saw nothing wrong with either of those. Both seem completely normal to me.
As Wolfgang and I began our first game of 8-ball, LJ said he was going to put on some music and disappeared into the next room. A few seconds later, I heard the familiar opening bars of an 80's power ballad blaring from the computer speakers. I couldn't quite place the song until I heard the opening lyrics...
Girl you're looking fine tonight...
LJ reentered the room.
"The Jeff Healey Band?" I might have snickered as I said it.
"Yeah," LJ had a what's-wrong-with-that tone. "You don't like that song?" He spoke with an innocence rarely found in a 35-year-old man.
"No, it's fine. I just... wasn't expecting it, I guess."
"Well, what's your favorite 80's song?"
I was thinking maybe something like Sweet Child O' Mine or Tainted Love, but instead replied nonchalantly, "I don't know."
"I was trying to think of mine today," LJ revealed. "I think mine would be Can't Fight This Feeling."
(pause for effect)
OK. There's nothing wrong with that song. I have it on my iPod. But if you're a guy, even if that is your favorite song, there's no need to share that with anyone else. Especially not with other guys when there are no easily accessible exits.
Meanwhile, Wolfgang seemed oblivious to the whole conversation. Either he wasn't familiar with the song or he was just trying to block out these disturbing pool room confessions.
After the Jeff Healey Band was done, Kokomo came on. So I'm thinking, alright, the Beach Boys, much better. Their music fits most any situation. They sing about surfing and girls and woodies. Nothing can be manlier than that. Then comes song number three...
Oceans apart, day after day, and I slowly go insane...
Can you name that tune? That's right, Richard Marx and Right Here Waiting.
Now again, nothing wrong with the song. I have the cassette single. It was even kinda hard not to sing along. And this would have been a perfect playlist if you had a girl over or something, and... Ronald Reagan was still President. It's just not the kind of music you blast while hanging with the boys.
Nevertheless, there we were, three 29 to 35 year old single males, shooting pool while listening to the flowing melodies of Richard Marx. Is it just me, or is there something fundamentally wrong with that scene?
By this time, I'm thinking, if Wind Beneath My Wings comes on, I'm out! I mean, if you're gonna play 80's ballads all night, at least give me some Tommy Page or Nicole Richie's dad or something.
I should insert here that the music was really loud. You could hear it all over the house. LJ must have had the computer speakers turned up as loud as they would go. Finally, after about the fifth or sixth consecutive slow song, Centerfold came on. Never in my life had I been so relieved to hear the J. Geils Band.
So went another evening hanging with Wolfgang and Little Joe. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to burn this Roxette CD onto my iTunes.
"Lift you up when you're feeling down, make your whole world turn around. I'll give my heart and soul to you, to let you know this love is true..."
Addendum: When it says "unsweetened" on the Hershey's can, they mean it.
I hung out at Little Joe's last Sunday night with him and Wolfgang. We shot pool for a bit and may or may not have been making small non-monetary wagers on the games.
Little Joe is the last person I personally know who still connected to the internet at 28800 bits per second. He has only been off dial-up for a couple of weeks now, and therefore is just discovering that empire of time-wasting delights known as YouTube. (MySpace would also fit there, but he has not yet discovered that. Although I should tell him about it so I can be #1 on his top eight!)
LJ informed us that his YouTube adventures included downloading music videos from the 80's along with General Hospital clips from the 90's. Well, I saw nothing wrong with either of those. Both seem completely normal to me.
As Wolfgang and I began our first game of 8-ball, LJ said he was going to put on some music and disappeared into the next room. A few seconds later, I heard the familiar opening bars of an 80's power ballad blaring from the computer speakers. I couldn't quite place the song until I heard the opening lyrics...
Girl you're looking fine tonight...
LJ reentered the room.
"The Jeff Healey Band?" I might have snickered as I said it.
"Yeah," LJ had a what's-wrong-with-that tone. "You don't like that song?" He spoke with an innocence rarely found in a 35-year-old man.
"No, it's fine. I just... wasn't expecting it, I guess."
"Well, what's your favorite 80's song?"
I was thinking maybe something like Sweet Child O' Mine or Tainted Love, but instead replied nonchalantly, "I don't know."
"I was trying to think of mine today," LJ revealed. "I think mine would be Can't Fight This Feeling."
(pause for effect)
OK. There's nothing wrong with that song. I have it on my iPod. But if you're a guy, even if that is your favorite song, there's no need to share that with anyone else. Especially not with other guys when there are no easily accessible exits.
Meanwhile, Wolfgang seemed oblivious to the whole conversation. Either he wasn't familiar with the song or he was just trying to block out these disturbing pool room confessions.
After the Jeff Healey Band was done, Kokomo came on. So I'm thinking, alright, the Beach Boys, much better. Their music fits most any situation. They sing about surfing and girls and woodies. Nothing can be manlier than that. Then comes song number three...
Oceans apart, day after day, and I slowly go insane...
Can you name that tune? That's right, Richard Marx and Right Here Waiting.
Now again, nothing wrong with the song. I have the cassette single. It was even kinda hard not to sing along. And this would have been a perfect playlist if you had a girl over or something, and... Ronald Reagan was still President. It's just not the kind of music you blast while hanging with the boys.
Nevertheless, there we were, three 29 to 35 year old single males, shooting pool while listening to the flowing melodies of Richard Marx. Is it just me, or is there something fundamentally wrong with that scene?
By this time, I'm thinking, if Wind Beneath My Wings comes on, I'm out! I mean, if you're gonna play 80's ballads all night, at least give me some Tommy Page or Nicole Richie's dad or something.
I should insert here that the music was really loud. You could hear it all over the house. LJ must have had the computer speakers turned up as loud as they would go. Finally, after about the fifth or sixth consecutive slow song, Centerfold came on. Never in my life had I been so relieved to hear the J. Geils Band.
So went another evening hanging with Wolfgang and Little Joe. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to burn this Roxette CD onto my iTunes.
"Lift you up when you're feeling down, make your whole world turn around. I'll give my heart and soul to you, to let you know this love is true..."
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