This is really hard

I never thought I'd love that way again.

The year was 1993.  I wasn't long out of high school.  There were tears in my eyes when the burly bartender I'd been seeing for several years came to the door and said, "Cheers is closed." 

A part of me died that day.  A part of me that was young and innocent, idealistic and hopeful.  But somehow I managed to pick up the pieces and move on from my first real love.  I found a new guy.  Single, thin, neat, early thirties.  Well actually it was more of a group thing.  Him and his friends, and me.  A little different, but I wasn't complaining.

In fact, things were great for a few years.  Until he and his friends got into some legal trouble up in Massachusetts.  After they were all thrown in prison, I was back on my own.  Like a Whitesnake song.  But this time I was certain, that I'd never love again.

And then I met him.

When I first encountered him, he was a 40-year-old virgin.  I found him only tolerably amusing, and a bit over-the-top.  By the time we began our weekly Thursday night trysts, he was way over-the-top.  Never did I ever think I would soon come to love this man.

I'm speaking of course of Steve Carell, aka Michael Scott. 

The new season of The Office begins tonight.  And it will do so without its fearless leader, now former leader.  They say the show must go on.  But I, for one, don't see how it can.  Michael Scott was to The Office what Gene Frenkle was to Blue Oyster Cult, what Trapper John was to Trapper John M.D., and Bob Barker was to The Price Is Right.  That show hasn't been funny at all since Barker left.

If you watched The Office you already know what I'm talking about.  If you didn't watch The Office, if you've never seen Michael Scott in all his glory, I have to wonder, have you ever really loved at all? Did I say loved?  I meant laughed.

While I cannot enumerate all the ways Michael Scott was great -- for that would take far too much time and typing -- I would be remiss if I failed to mention his signature joke and crowning achievement: "That's what she said."

Michael Scott single-handedly brought "That's What She Said" and it's internet shorthand counterpart, TWSS, into the daily vernacular.  You'd be hard-pressed today to find a message board frequented by juvenile men (and women) that doesn't have a TWSS reference.  It's a timeless, if slightly immature, joke.  Brilliant both in its simplicity and versatility.  I try to fit it in wherever I can..........

So before we move on -- and some of us never will -- let us look back and remember, Michael Gary Scott.  A man I will miss.  A man who has ruined all other men for me.

Here are a few selected Michael Scott quotes for your enjoyment:

- "It’s how I like to do business, everybody joking around.  It’s like Friends.  I am Chandler, and Joey.  Pam is Rachel. And Dwight is Kramer."

- "I like Donna. Is it wrong to keep seeing her?  Depends on who you ask.  I mean, if you ask her husband, or you took a random poll, yeah, it's wrong."

- "You know what eats a large amount of the day are naps.  You go to sleep it's light out, you wake up it's dark.  That's the whole day.  Where did that day go?  I have no idea."

- "I am actually great with old women.  In fact, for the longest time my best friend was my grandmother.  And then she met Harriet.  And now she thinks she better than everybody."

- "A boss’s salary isn’t just about money.  It’s about perks.  For example, every year I get a $100 gas card.  Can’t put a price on that."

- "My philosophy is basically this.  And this is something that I live by, and I always have.  And I always will.  Don't ever, for any reason, do anything, to anyone, for any reason, ever, no matter what, no matter where, or who or who you are with, or or where you are going, or where you've been.  Ever.  For any reason.  Whatsoever."

- "Jim is like Big Bird.  He is tall and yellow and very nice.  But would I put him in charge?  No.  I don't think so.  Big Bird doesn't make the tough decisions.  If I was gonna put someone in charge, I would put Bert in charge.  Or I would put one of the real grown-ups in charge, like Maria or Gordon, maybe."

- "How do you tell somebody that you care about deeply, 'I told you so.'  Gently with a rose?  In a funny way, like it's a hilarious joke?  Or do you just let it go, because saying it would just make things worse? ... Probably the funny way."

- "I don't need to be friends with Pam.  I have plenty of female friends.  My mom.  Pam's mom.  My aunt... although she just blocked me on IM.  What's her face, from Quiznos?  I see her like four times a week."

- "A boss is like a teacher.  And I am like the cool teacher, like Mister Handell.  Mister Handell would hang out with us and he would tell us awesome jokes and he... actually hooked up with one of the students.  And then like twelve other kids came forward.  It was in all the papers.  Really ruined eighth grade for us."

Best of luck, Michael, in your new life with Holly in Colorado.  Oh who am I kidding?  This is going to suck!  It's going to be like when Bo and Luke left Dukes Of Hazzard and were replaced by Coy and Vance, times a hundred!

I'll miss your mispronunciations and your song parodies, your women's pants and your man-crush on Ryan (and possibly Jim), your Dundie Awards and Scott's Tots, Prison Mike and Date Mike, Lazy Scranton and the Golden Ticket idea, your fake suicide attempt and real George Foreman grill foot injury, the Michael Scott Paper Company and Threat Level Midnight, and perhaps most of all, your uncanny ability to always say the wrong thing and make even the most seemingly benign situation painfully uncomfortable.

I'll miss you, Michael.  In the immortal words of one James Halpert, "You always left me satisfied and smiling."

(sniff) That's what she said.

"I wish you the best.  And I wish you nothing less than everything you've ever dreamed of.  And I hope that you find love along the way.  But most of all, I wish you'd stay..."

Here comes the sun

Riddle me this: Somewhere in Alabama today, a three-week-old child asks, "What's that in the sky, Dad?" "That's the sun," is the reply. The child had never seen it. Smart kid? Well, he was talking at three weeks. On the other hand, he didn't know what the sun was. Also, the dad was the child's mother. So maybe not so smart after all.

The sun finally came out here today, for the first time in three weeks. Thank goodness, too, because the constant cloudiness and gray was starting to fool my body into thinking it was winter. Which would have put me in danger of catching a case of the non-seasonal Januarys. Which is rare, not to mention more resistant than the regular Januarys.

How bad has it been? During a recent performance of Annie, when they got to the line "The sun will come out tomorrow" an angry audience member stood up and yelled, "You lie!"

Twenty-two consecutive days with rain combined with the Darryls each somehow acquiring a girlfriend has also cut into my already less-than-sterling golf game, er, social life. And when you add to that the fact that football is now on TV every night of the week but Tuesday and Wednesday, well let's just say that I don't get out much.

This makes it all the more difficult to understand how I missed the season premiere of The Office last week. Fortunately, you can watch everything online now, which precludes any need that I might have had to purchase one of those newfangled DVR players, for now anyway. Is this a good time to admit that I may or may not still use a VCR to record things on occasion?

It's hard for me to commit to very many TV shows at one time. They're like girls. I can only handle so many. There's a long-term obligation involved, not to mention the emotional strain some of these shows put on me. I watch Mad Men and Burn Notice when I remember, which usually winds up being about once every three weeks. Always The Office. And then parts of General Hospital during the day. I can't commit to any more. Pretty soon I've spread myself too thin and no one's happy.

Getting back to the Darryls, what is up with the girlfriends? I watched the Newhart series finale. I don't recall the Darryls ever getting married. Did I miss something?

Maybe it's time for me to spread my wings, move to Seattle and have my own show, a la Frasier Crane. It would be a spin-off--a reality series about Larry trying to make it on his own, sans the Darryls. It could be called Just Larry.

Is this the end of life as I know it...with the Darryls? Would you cry? Will I?

Stay tuned.

"Little darling, it seems like years since it's been clear. Here comes the sun. Here comes the sun. And I say it's all right..."

That time my nipple was on fire

Welcome to the Spring of Bone. The season of my shaven head, if you will. The past few days have been a whirlwind. Thursday was the Kenny Chesney concert. Saturday morning I ran a 10K. And Saturday evening, I had another engagement. Three events in three days! That's a lot, compared to my usual number of zero. Not to mention the season finales of The Office and 24. Plus, Michael coming out of a year-long coma on General Hospital. Whew! I think I need a weekend off to decompress.

Let us begin with the concert: the Kenny Chesney Sun City Carnival Tour. It was held at the Oak Mountain Amphitheatre in Birmingham, a perfect venue for an outdoor concert on a gorgeous Alabama night. It wound up just being the Darryls and me. Jamie was supposed to go, but she got two tickets from a radio station and ditched us. Can't really blame her, considering our tickets were on row V in the very last section. Not bad for 95 bucks. I'm pretty sure it was the worst seat I've ever had at a concert, except for that one year at June Jam when the actual curvature of the Earth itself prevented us from seeing most of the stage.

The opening acts were Lady Antebellum--who we missed because we were stuck in traffic--and Miranda Lambert--who we unfortunately did not miss. She was not very good. There was one highlight, however, when she brought Blake Shelton on stage and he sang a song. I texted my sister, "Blake Shelton just came out!" Well, I noticed she didn't reply for awhile. She told me later she forgot I was at the concert and so when she got my text all she could think was, "Nuh uh! I thought he was dating Miranda Lambert!"

Kenny's part of the show was excellent. He sang about twenty songs. (I have the set list if you'd like. I texted it to myself.) I don't think I realized how many hits he's had until we were on our way home and started naming off at least as many songs that he hadn't sang.

At one point during the show, LJ pulled out a disposable camera, aimed it in the general direction of the figure we thought was most likely Kenny Chesney, and started clicking. He asked me if I thought he'd be able to see anything in the pictures. Um no, not unless the word Hubble appears somewhere on the camera.

Saturday morning was my 10K race. That's 6.2 miles, which coincidentally, is just slightly farther than we were from Kenny Chesney. I got off to a terrible start, due largely to starting at the back and having to navigate the mass of bodies the first half mile. My one mile split was like eight and a half minutes. I picked it up from there and finished in 48:29, good for fifth in my age group. My time was fourteen seconds slower than last year, but that was kind of expected since I haven't been training as much. To have run a faster time would have been to cheat the very ideals of hard work, training and dedication. And also likely would have caused me to pass out and/or begin wretching.

Saturday night, I went to a dance recital, 'cause that's how I roll. I went to see Kywana Jr. in... umm... I keep forgetting the name of the program. Twelve Angry Men? No, there weren't that many men in it. The Princess Bride? Nope, no Andre The Giant. Dances With Wolves? No, but it was four hours long. Wait, I got it. Twelve Dancing Princesses! Yes, that's it. And it's even less exciting than the title would indicate, if that's possible.

Oh, I almost forgot! A bizarre thing did happen on the way to my race Saturday morning. My right nipple started burning. I mean, it was on fire! Have any of you ever had this problem? I examined it, but really couldn't tell much. I mean, what does it usually look like? I don't know. Anyway, that led to an odd, if not disturbing scene Saturday around lunchtime, as I stood shirtless in front of my bathroom mirror rubbing Neosporin on my nipples. I mean, if there is one microcosm I could give you to sum up my life, that's it right there.

You are currently experiencing the Spring of Bone...

"And I go back to watchin' summer fade into fall. Growin' up too fast and I do recall wishin' time would stop right in its tracks..."

Two birds, one stone

Welcome to the Friday Fifteen. Think of it like a Thursday Thirteen, except bigger and far less popular. Far, far less popular. This post will attempt to kill two birds with one stone, serving to update you on my life while also clearing out my mental cache. And also giving me something to post. Well, that's three birds, but that would be impossible. Believe it or not, I have a lot of random thoughts that come into my head throughout the day, as you will see. Sometimes I wonder, where do they come from? And why me?

1. I wonder how the two-birds-with-one-stone cliche started. Did it have a literal beginning? Did someone somewhere along the timeline of history actually kill two birds with one stone? And if so, was it intentional? Were they a bird stoning trick shot artist? Or was it an accident? Like did the stone hit a huge branch, breaking it and causing it to fall on two birds, sending them to a sudden and tragic demise? And if it never really happened, then who came up with this cliche? Do you have any idea how hard it is to even hit one bird with one stone? Well, me neither, but it's bound to be pretty difficult.

2. Two Byrds With One Stone would be a great title if Roger McGuinn, David Crosby, and Mick Jagger ever recorded an album together. (I tried to find a pic of the three of them together to post, but surprisingly there were none to be found. At least not on page one of my google image results.)

3. At the car wash today, there was a lady standing at the thing where you pay. She asked, "Strawberry or Pina Colada?" At first, I thought they were giving away refreshing beverages, but turns out it was just a free car air freshener for customer appreciation day.

4. I wonder if a car air freshener would work in the house.

5. Cinco de mayo will mark my six year bloggiversary. Do I have to post something for that?

6. Spurred on by my recent string of plumbing successes--or, just that one thing--I decided to try and fix the toilet at work yesterday. Mission accomplished. We can now flush the men's room toilet without having to hold the lever down for seven seconds. Who knows, I could have a whole new career on my hands. Or, a career.

7. Why is McDonald's so fast in the morning and so much slower at all other times of the day?

8. My favorite line from The Office last night: "Hear me, Dwight, when I say I brought you into this world, and I can take you out... Bill Cosby."

9. My second favorite line: "I. Understand. Nothing."

10. Which came first, the can or the can opener? If it was the can, how did they open them? And if it was the can opener, just... why?

11. Sunday night, it was incredibly windy here. No rain, no thunder, just wind. For about three hours. It was eerie. The next day, the news called it a gravity wave. When I went to go running Monday afternoon, the entrances to the park were roped off and there looked to be about twenty or thirty trees down, apparently from this gravity wave. I had to drive twenty minutes to another park to run.

12. That's the only time I've been running this week. Apparently, I'm not too lazy to run, just too lazy to drive very far to do it.

13. My fantasy baseball league draft is tonight. And you thought all I did on weekends was hang out with 10-year-olds. Well, not tonight. Tonight I'll be sitting online for two or three hours pretending to draft real players onto my fake baseball team. I finished in 4th place last year (out of ten teams). This season, I'm shooting for the stars. Or, third place.

14. Tomorrow, fave sister and I will be attending Bama's A-Day game. Also known as the final scrimmage of spring practice. ESPN is televising it. Let me say that again. ESPN is televising our spring practice.

15. We leave for the beach in thirteen days. Unfortunately, it's been an unseasonably cool April. I like for it to at least be in the 80's when I'm at the beach. I'll still go if it's in the 70's, but I can't promise that I won't get chilly at night. Oh well. Surely if Kennedy diffused the Cuban Missile Crisis in thirteen days, surely the weather can warm up by then.

"Bring me two pina coladas. I want one for each hand. Let's set sail with Captain Morgan. Oh, and never leave dry land..."

The weather is beautiful, wish you could forecast it

"Here is my card. It's got my cell number, my pager number, my home number, and my other pager number. I never take vacations, I never get sick, and I don't celebrate any major holidays." ~ DKS 2007

I was out sick today. Make note of that, as I take fewer sick days than Dwight K. Schrute. Anyway, it's just a cold and a sore throat or something. I'm sure I'll be back operating at my usual 30% of capacity in no time.

Anyway, in the midst of my sick day Office-viewing marathon, I uncharacteristically watched not one, but two local weather forecasts this evening. Have I ever told you how much I adore our local weather forecasters and the how-many-jellybeans-in-the-jar-like job they do of guessing, er, predicting the weather? I'm sure I've mentioned it a time or twelve. In passing, of course.

Well tonight, I observed two distinct differences in these two forecasts. (Warning: What follows may alarm and further confuse you.)

Channel A said there was a 40% chance of rain on Wednesday. They also said that the high on Friday would be 81.

Channel B said it would be sunny on Wednesday. And that the high on Friday would be 69.

Now if you've been practicing your flash cards, you've already figured out that is a twelve degree difference in the high temperature on Friday at two television stations located in the same city, probably not five miles from each other. And good luck figuring out if it's gonna rain Wednesday or not.

And that, in a nutshell, is why I pay no attention to the weather forecast.

"The weather is here, I wish you were beautiful. My thoughts aren't too clear, but don't run away..."

Whatever gets you through the day

I do not live my life moment to moment, hour to hour, or even day to day. I choose rather to live from point A to point B, where each point represents some event, great or small, that I look forward to. In this present life, I am currently up to point #75,461: Watching the Duke/Villanova game tonight. Point #75,460 was watching The Office earlier this evening.

In the next couple of months, I am looking forward to attending the Alabama A-Day game (and also eating at Taco Casa), seeing Kenny Chesney in concert, running my hometown 10K, and spending a long weekend in Destin. My calendar hasn't been this full in... well ever. Of course, I don't actually have a calendar. The only calendar I really need is the one that pops up when I double click on the time in the lower right hand corner of my computer screen.

These life events that I look forward to aren't always as grand as a beach trip or a concert. Most are rather simple things that help me get through a day, an hour, or a week without weeping openly. Things like dinner with friends, staying up to catch a favorite band on Carson Daly, or urinating without pain or difficulty.

I've done this for as long as I can remember.

- In second grade, I looked forward to kickball day in PE. Also dodgeball so I could really nail the kids I didn't like.
- In middle school, I looked forward to Weekly Reader day.
- In ninth grade, I looked forward to physics because I sat in front of Ally Purcell. She was a senior who would always fall asleep during class and I always took great pleasure in waking her up, if you know what I mean. (That doesn't mean anything, just trying to liven things up a bit here.)
- In eleventh grade, I looked forward to every other weekend so that I could go out with Rachel and make out in the back of her Camaro. (You might recall that I saved up my lunch money for two weeks so that I could afford to take her out.)
- Freshman year of college, I looked forward to Calculus so that I could go to the mall. Though I didn't look forward to retaking Calculus.

These days, a typical week might involve me looking forward to watching 24 on Monday night, golfing on Tuesday, getting to see Nephew Bone on Wednesday, and a nice long afternoon nap on Thursday. This is how I get through life. Or as the kids say these days, how I roll.

Show me a man who has nothing to look forward to and I'll show you a man who doesn't play golf.

Some might say that I am wishing my days away, rather than living in the moment, breathing in the sweet nectar of each precious second. To those I would say, Duke and Villanova are starting. After that, Letterman will be on. Then I'll probably get some baked Doritos and listen to iTunes while surfing the 'net in my underwear.

All of which are things I have been looking forward to all day.

"Don't blink. Just like that you're six years old and you take a nap. And you wake up and you're twenty-five and your high school sweetheart becomes your wife..."

It takes effort to be this unproductive

Also known as "What I did tonight instead of Christmas shopping, writing Christmas cards, alleviating the nakedness of my Christmas tree, or anything else that might otherwise be deemed as productive."

I listened to iTunes. "Higher Love" by Steve Winwood came on. I googled it to see if it was "think about it" or "thing about it." I thought it was think, but also thought it could be thing. It turned out to be think, which is what I first thought.

While looking at the lyrics, however, I realized the chorus does not go "Great day of higher love!" Who knew?! All these many years I've been singing it wrong. Looks like somebody would have told me, instead of letting me look like an idiot.

I mean, if a woman is walking around with a little mini moustache, you don't just let it go and snicker behind her back. You say, "I think you gotta a little something on your lip there, ma'am... Oh! It's hair." Unless you're dating her, in which case you just have to pray someone else mentions it to her.

Otherwise, I practiced my skills at Yahoo pool. You know, because that's so much healthier than trying to go out and meet a girl or something.

I also watched a couple of Seinfelds, "The Rye" and "The Dog." I have a rule that I always stop if a Seinfeld is on TV, even though I have the DVDs. (Except for Seasons 8 & 9, which would be on my Amazon wish list if I had one.)

No fewer than fourteen times I looked out the window to see if it was snowing yet, because according to the weather people there was a 50 percent chance. "Up to an inch accumulation," they said. Of course, I never saw the first flurry. You'd think they would eventually luck up and get it right JUST ONE TIME. I mean, people win the Powerball. How hard could it be to close your eyes and predict snow?

Let's see, I know I must have done something else. I think the problem is I did so much, it's easy to forget some of it. Oh yes, now I remember. I heard a dog barking, so I cut off the lights and looked outside to see if there was a dangerous prowler or angry ex-girlfriend lurking. I'm basically a one-man Neighborhood Watch.

Ooo, I watched The Office! I think tonight was the best episode of the season so far. Here are a few random quotes, which may or may not mean something to you, largely depending on whether or not you watched the show:

"We are not going to support your alcoholism anymore. The next time you light yourself on fire, we are not going to help put you out."
"Ah, as fire marshal I would have to."

"Have you ever, under the influence of alcohol, questioned the teachings of the Mormon church?"

"I am not going to judge Phyllis for desecrating Christmas. There is one person who will though, and Phyllis just stuffed him into a drawer."

"Was John Belushi fine? Was Bob Hope fine?"

"Fire girl! ..... Too soon?"

OK, I must get to bed. Whoever knew there could be so much involved in doing nothing. May tomorrow be a great day of higher love for us all. Sorry, I just had to say it one last time. *sniff* I'll miss it.

"Think about it, there must be higher love. Down in the heart or hidden in the stars above. Without it, life is wasted time..."

Do you hear what I hear

Please stop by and welcome Pia home, and read about her adventures south of the border. Apparently, while she was in Mexico being mistaken for a puta, I unwittingly missed Thank Your Mentor Day. And actually, the entire National Mentoring Month. Oops. Who knew?

Oh, and Happy Groundhog Day. My Groundhog Day post last year got some very interesting responses.

For Christmas this year, Dad put a key finder in my stocking. My sister got one too. The key finder attaches to your keychain and when you whistle, it is supposed to emit a series of beeps, allowing you to locate your keys.

After testing it out a few times, I found it was erratic, at best. It wouldn't work half the time when I whistled directly into it. Other times, it would go off at random. So I tossed it into a bag with a few other stocking stuffers, which I'm not overly proud to say is still sitting in my living room floor. And the key finder was forgotten. Until last Thursday night.

My sister and brother-in-law were over for supper and we began to hear a beeping noise. I'd heard it a few times before, but was never able to figure out what it was. My brother-in-law knew right off. It was the key finder! I immediately ran to the Christmas bag and found it.

Friday morning as I was getting ready for work, I placed the key finder in my pocket. Having just watched The Office the day before, I had an idea.

Now the object of my office pranks is most often the secretary. She's in her forties, and looks like someone who would wear lots of sweatshirts with bears and stuff painted on them, even though she doesn't. And she's always a good sport.

When I got to work, I scouted her office for a suitable place for the key finder. Some place she'd be sure to hear it, but unlikely to find it. First I tried pushing up one of the ceiling tiles and leaving it in the ceiling. I whistled, but could barely hear it. No good. Then, I saw it--the tissue box! Perfect. I dropped the key finder in the tissue box and got ready for the fun to ensue.

As soon as she arrived, I walked thru and began whistling to the radio. Then listened. I heard the key finder. It was working. Although she didn't seem to notice it.

Oh, but she would.

The fun began shortly after 10 AM. She walked in with furrowed brow and asked, "Am I going crazy, or do you hear beeping noises?" She seemed to be alluding to the radio.

"Beeping noises? In the radio?" I replied, as if she may very well have lost her mind.

"Yes! It seems like almost everytime a new song starts, I hear a beeping."

"I haven't noticed. But I'll start listening closer."

About forty-five minutes later, I walked out to her office. Before I could say a word, she spoke.

"I figured it out!" she said, as if she's Bell and I'm Watson, and she'd just discovered the missing piece to make her invention work. "It's not in the radio. It's coming from my phone!"

I had her. Hook, line, and sinker. I began to smile, but she continued.

"Everytime my phone rings, it beeps. Here!" she said as she pulled out her cell phone. This was going even better than I had hoped. She dialed the work number. The phone rang. The key finder beeped.

"There! You hear it?"

I'd regained my poker face by this time. I squinted and leaned in as if trying to listen closely.

"Ummm, no," I lied.

"You don't hear that?!" she exclaimed, before letting out a sound that sounds a bit like a puppy whimpering. "You probably think I'm losing my mind."

At that time, I decided that I'd gotten my money's worth out of this joke. And while she'd been talking, I'd been reaching into the tissue box. As she had no idea what's going on, she simply thought I was getting a tissue. I finally retrieved the key finder and tossed it on her desk.

She looked at it, realized what is going on, and jumped out of her chair, all within about a second and a half. I took off running and she chased after me. She later told me the beeping noises made her think her phone might be tapped.

I guess the key finder worked after all.

There's nothing like seeing a carefully planned prank coming together perfectly. Although now I must await her revenge. I've been half-expecting a live snake to drop from the ceiling at any time. I must be vigilant!

Oh, and lest you think she doesn't deserve it, don't forget this.

Have a great weekend and Super Bowl Sunday! And remember, if your name was Punxsutawney, you'd stay in a hole most of the time, too.

"If you ever get annoyed, look at me I'm self-employed. I love to work at nothing all day..."