The '14 Comeback Special

I'm not sure I remember how to do this.

This must be how Elvis felt during the '68 comeback special.  Come to think of it, I have put on a few extra pounds.  Do me a favor, if e'er I should be honored with a postage stamp -- posthumously or humously(???) -- please vote for Young (skinny) Bone.

Actually, some people called me Elvis in 9th grade.  And by some people, I mean, my entire class.  It's a funny story, really.  And by funny story, I mean I still cringe whenever I think about that year.

It was 1988.  The "Elvis & Me" made-for-TV movie was coming out.  My hairstylist uncle had given me a haircut, which turned out to be more of a hairdo.  One which evidently resembled that of Graceland's most famous owner.  I also curled my lip when I smiled.  I'm not really sure why I did that.  Like if I'd always done it, or if the hairdo brought it out magically.  Either way, no one was happier to see 10th grade (and return to my usual 68-year-old barber) than me.

Anyhow, getting back to the gist of why I haven't blogged in nearly three months.  Here it is: I've been busy.

Oh sure, Bone, we're all busy.  (That was you talking. You follow?)

But you don't understand.  I have the time management skills (and possibly the attention span)  of a two-year-old.  I'd been so un-busy for so long that whatever modest time management skills I may have once possessed had long ago atrophied.

So when I picked back up the second job I had last summer doing web updates for a non-profit, in addition to the freelance writing gig I still have, my regular full-time job, and mowing, well, Bone as you knew him ceased to exist.

Golfing Bone.  Making-up-Fake-Onion-stories Bone.  Napping-more-frequently-than-a-Kindergartner Bone.  That Bone is dying.  God, I hate to see him go.  But he had a good run.

Well, OK, a run.

I was hoping to not do any lawns this year since I already had a second and third job.  But one of my clients from last year texted to see if I was going to mow again.  Not wanting to disappoint anyone (except girlfriends, I'm used to that) because everyone has to like me, I said I would.

Oh, also there was a little matter of fearing I was going to be evicted, followed by my own personal version of Property Virgins, making an offer on two houses literally hours after they'd sold, then pulling an offer on a third before everything finally worked out on house number 4.

So yeah, I finally lost my virginity.  I'm a homeowner.  Or, will be in 359 more easy monthly installments.

The year hasn't been without its share of tragedy, though.  First, I got a speeding ticket on the way to mow the yard I hoped I wouldn't have to mow for (allegedly) doing 45 in a 30mph zone.  I'm such a danger to society!  Sleep well, America, knowing that your hard-earned tax dollars are going to protect the streets from people driving 45mph.

And most devastatingly, I saw a 24-game Words With Friends winning streak come to an end.  Lost to an ex-girlfriend.  And not even the smart one.  This is why you shouldn't maintain contact with your exes.

But it hasn't all been disappointment.  I mean, we found out that Ted and Robin did wind up together in the end.  (Suck it, Barney!)  And I landed a side gig playing the Easter Bunny at a children's store.

Yes, that's an Easter Bunny selfie.  It's entirely possible my life has reached its pinnacle.

I suppose that's all for now.  I'm off to the Jungle Room.  OK, I don't really have a Jungle Room.  But we did paint the guest bathroom a color called "gentle pasture."  I spend quite a bit of time in there.

I like to think of it as my own little meditation garden.

"You can't drive through Talladega on a weekend in October / Head up north to Jacksonville / Cut around and over / Watch your speed in Boiling Springs / They ain't got a thing to do / They'll get you every time / Somebody take me home / Through those Alabama pines..."

Man perplexed by friends' lack of Zynga games activity

(Source: FakeOnion.com)

Mr. Cy Berstocker thinks he has uncovered something quite alarming about the world in which we live.  After suffering through a two-hour-plus period of a workday during which none of his friends played a single move in Words With Friends, the Alabama man began to wonder what was happening.

"I've got forty-seven games of Words With Friends currently in progress," Berstocker confessed as he showed off his sparkling career 25.1 points-per-word average.  "Now, I could see twelve or fifteen of these people having plans or just getting sick of playing, and losing.  Maybe even twenty or thirty.  But every single one?  It didn't seem likely."

That's when Berstocker began reading the premillennial book series, Left Behind.

"I'd always heard of the rapture, and I figured this might be it.  I remember those books being out so I picked one up and started reading.  Well, I probably don't have to tell you, it was pretty boring.  So I only got to page four.  That's when I decided something even more disturbing might be going on."

His hypothesis?  People at work, were actually working!

"I know it seems unlikely, but that's all I can come up with.  Look at this.  Normally, by this time of day my battery power is down to twenty or thirty percent.  Today?  Seventy-eight percent.  Meanwhile, I've been nudging people left and right, like an extroverted goat.  It's like a Twilight Zone where the protagonist wakes up and goes to work.  He's still goofing off, but suddenly everyone else is doing actual work.  It's freaking me out, man."

For now, Berstocker mostly sits and stares at his iPhone, pondering things like whether he has enough chip clips for all his potato chips, and maybe someday interacting with another human face-to-face.

Pulling down and releasing the screen every few seconds to refresh.

Hoping, praying, for any sign of life.

"Now I'm looking to the sky to save me / Looking for a sign of life / Looking for something to help me burn out bright..."

Curse of the grasshopper

This is the story of a boy who had no friends.  We'll call him... Cone.

Cone lived with his mother.  He was smart.  And even in those early years showed glimpses of the cleverness and impeccable timing that would someday make him one of the most hilarious people he knew.

Cone had but two flaws: An abnormal fear of grasshoppers, to the point where he would not come inside if one was on the screen door.  And he was highly competitive.  Sometimes winning backyard games by such a large margin and in such a dominating fashion that some of the kids would cry.  Especially those who were like five years younger than him.

Some called him a cheater.  Some said he shouldn't take the games so seriously.  Eventually, all of the other neighborhood kids wouldn't let Bone, er, Cone, join in any childhood games.

That's one sad story, eh?  Well, I have a confession:  It's not entirely true.

First of all, the boy's name wasn't Cone.  It's Bone.  And he wasn't a kid.  Well, OK, so that's debatable to some extent.  Also, they weren't childhood games.  They're iPhone games.  And lastly, he doesn't live with his mother.  And hasn't for a few years now, thank you very much!

But the grasshopper part, that's all too true.  I don't trust anything that can jump twenty times its length.  Big-eyed scary hopping freakazoids!

Am I making any sense?  The boy in this story is me!  And I'm running out of friends.

No, not real-life friends.  I never had very many of those in the first place.  But virtual friends, who are willing to play against me in Words With Friends, Scramble With Friends, Matching With Friends, Trivie, Ruzzle, etc.

Just last week, I challenged a friend's wife in Ruzzle.  It's basically the same thing as Boggle.  After one game -- a 2144 to 897 beat down -- she was all like, "You're cheating.  I'm not playing with you anymore.  I'm never gonna win, so what fun is that?"

Is that where this world is headed -- if we don't win, we just throw up our hands and quit?  If the Detroit Lions had that attitude, they'd have given up football thirty years ago.  OK, so that might not have been the worst idea ever.  Bad example.

Nevertheless, I'm mostly down to using the "Find a random opponent" option for new Ruzzle games.  Which is kind of the iPhone game equivalent of signing up for match.com.  You're basically admitting to the world, I can't find anyone to play Ruzzle with me on my own, I need help. 

I'm currently 72-1 in Ruzzle.  The one girl who beat me was a random opponent I'd beaten before.  She's probably one of those people who has nothing to do but play games on their phone, so they get abnormally good at them.

It's sad, really.

Words With Friends isn't quite as bad.  It doesn't keep up with your record, but I do lose a bit more often there.  (Though a cursory glance at my last ten games shows no losses.)  Still, I've seen my number of opponents dwindle over time.  What do I do if they all eventually quit playing me?  I mean, "friends," it's in the name of the game.  There's no Words Without Friends. 

I think we all know what happens to people with no virtual friends.  And it's not a pretty sight.  Turned back out into the real world, I could be forced to do unseemly things, like go out in public, make plans with people, and stop pretending I don't hear when someone speaks to me at the grocery store.

Oh no, I'm not ready for that.

But what am I supposed to do, not try?  Just completely ignore when someone leaves a triple word score wide open for me and play somewhere else on the board?  Pretend this is just a casual game for "fun?"

I can't do it, I tell you.  I can't!  It's against who I am.

Scared of grasshoppers, and slightly competitive in games and competitions that provide no real gain, financial or otherwise.

I'm Cone.  Nice to meet ya!

"And the games you'd play / You would always win / Always win..."

Olympicoma

I have spent the past fifty-plus hours in an Olympicoma, defined by Bone-a-pedia as "an extended state of lethargy induced by four channels of nearly non-stop Olympic programming."

But it's a good lethargy.

Whilst watching Todd Rogers and Phil Dalhausser, my hair idol, dispose of another opponent this afternoon in men's beach volleyball, I began to ponder my own Olympic dreams.  Sure, my greatest athletic accomplishments have been documented.  (Note: That becomes a better read the more bored you are.)  But much like most areas of my life, I've always felt there was something missing.

And while I think we all agreed a couple years ago that my best shot was in curling, I've yet to actually throw a stone.  Or even attend a curling game.  So at this point we have to realistically ask: What if curling doesn't work out?

Therefore, I've been scouting these 2012 games for a sport in which I could excel.  At first I thought maybe archery.  After all, I really like the hats.  Then they said it takes fifty pounds of pressure to pull back the bow.  On every shot!?  Good heavens, I can barely do fifty push ups.  Wait, is it barely, or hardly?

So I've decided it would be better to suggest some new events that might be added to the games, any one of which would in all likelihood allow me to realize my Olympic dream.

Co-Ed Water Polo (In Shallow Water) ~ I specify co-ed because I would feel more than a little uncomfortable in a pool having physical contact with fourteen guys all wearing our Speedos.  But throw a few girls in there and I might be OK.  And shallow water because, look, we all know how to swim, no one needs to prove anything.  Plus, it would be much less tiring.  So, either shallow water or we all wear arm floaties.  I'm fine with either.

Words With Friends ~ Since purchasing an iPhone a few weeks ago, I'm like 40-2 in Words With Friends!  Plus, this would make for great TV.  Imagine the drama, as players sat across the table from one another and played on their phones: "Oh no, Jim.  It looks like the Montenegro contestant has lost service!"  "I think you're right, Rowdy.  My Montenegrin is a little spotty, but I believe he just cursed his cell provider.  And quite colorfully, I might add."

NFL Two-Minute Drill ~ This is a football toss game they have at our Chuck E. Cheese.  I can always achieve the Hall Of Fame bonus, which is like fifty tokens.  It also makes an alarm go off, which was a little embarrassing the first few times, what with a couple of kids standing around and their parents already giving me the stink-eye because I'm hogging the game.  But I got over it.

Nerf Free Throw Shooting ~ I once made 42 free throws in a row on my Nerf goal.  And that's without even practicing very much.  I have no idea how that stacks up with the world's greatest Nerf free throw shooters.  And therein lies the tragedy.

Competitive Napping ~ Granted, this wouldn't make for great television.  But are you gonna tell me the steeplechase is winning its time slot every night?  (FYI steeplechasers, the water is in the same place every lap . Go around it to save time.)  I see competitive napping as a program of four or five events, similar to gymnastics.  You would have couch napping, desk napping, the power nap, napping with noise.  Competitors would be judged on length and soundness of nap, speed in getting to sleep, ability to sleep through an alarm, volume of drool, etc.

Wiffle Ball Field Hockey ~ As I assume none of you know what this is, let me explain.  My sister and I would play this using Wiffle ball bats and a tennis ball.  You just hit the ball with your bat and try to get it past your opponent's goal line (which for me was an invisible line running in both directions from the basketball goal in our backyard), all the while trying to keep your opponent from getting the ball past your goal.  I dominated!  Of course, I was like fourteen and my sister was seven.  (What?  I let her win, occasionally.  Had to, or she wouldn't play anymore.)

Paper Football ~ I once scored 128 points in a paper football game against my friend, Archie, during 10th grade biology class.  I might've scored even more, but Mister Whitmore caught us playing and threw our football in the trash.

Scene-It Seinfeld ~ Since getting this for Christmas a few years ago, I'm undefeated.  I'm sure you're surprised.  No one will play me anymore.  I'm not even kidding.  Actually, I'm not entirely undefeated.  That's because sometimes -- and I've never revealed this to anyone before now -- I play against myself.  It's pretty intense.  A lot like that scene in War Games when Matthew Broderick makes the computer play tic-tac-toe against itself.  Except the DEFCON level remains unaffected.

Are you listening IOC?  And if none of those work, I have others:  Putt-putt.  Air hockey.  Boggle, obviously.  Rock-Paper-Scissors.

Just imagine, sitting in your living room, watching a still-good-looking-as-ever Bob Costas covering the 2016 Games in Rio.  And you hear him refer to Bone as the "Michael Phelps of Co-Ed Water Polo - Shallow Water Division."

I think that's a dream we all have.

"There's nothing I know of in Rio / But it's something to do with the night / It's only a whimsical notion / To fly down to Rio tonight / And I probably won't fly down to Rio / But then again, I just might..."