Pop Culture Sins

I considered starting this article with a bunch of jokey-jokes about why I haven’t written anything substantial in over a month, but the realization that most of you probably didn’t even notice the hiatus stayed my hand.  Plus, there isn’t anything  funny about spending a month with my blonde girlfriend who lives in California and cheered at USC and is considering modeling and yes she exists and you’ll meet her when I’m ready.  Her name is, uh, Keyboard.  Keyboard, umm, Glass.  Of Whiskey.  Keyboard Glassofwhiskey.

She hates when I take candid pictures and don’t give her time to remove her watermark

In order to get back into the swing of things, I figured I’d write about pop culture and save my 5000 word treatise “Psychosomatic Hallucinations as Coping Mechanism for Acute Loneliness” for a later date.

Just to clarify, a pop culture sin is one that goes against a widely accepted norm and defies common logic e.g. hating a universally loved movie like Goodfellas or being unable to identify an actor as ubiquitous as Johnny Depp or George Clooney.  Not seeing a popular movie/TV show doesn’t count.  There’s usually a reason for the sin but it’s irrational and steeped in personal anecdotes.  I think it’ll become clearer as I explain my four examples.

1) I Just Don’t Get What The Big Deal About Ghostbusters Is

By no means am I calling Ghostbusters a bad movie.  I first watched it all the way through a few years ago and thoroughly enjoyed it.  Still, I couldn’t help being disappointed when the credits rolled.  Ghostbusters is frequently near the top of “Best Comedies” lists and even makes it on lists of best movies of any category so I had high hopes going in.  I always knew about the films, having grown up with the cartoon spin-offs and that radioactive juice box flavor.  I knew the main bullet points like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man and all the actors involved.

In a case of the whole being less than the sum of its parts, all the ingredients are there for a movie I should love but I just don’t feel that strongly about it.  I love Bill Murray and Rick Moranis and Sigourney Weaver, just not as these characters.  I’m a big sci-fi/fantasy fan, but found the story kind of boring.  I have nothing against 80s movies,  I like the director’s other movies, I understand the effects were amazing for the time, and yet I still don’t think I’ll ever go out of my way to watch it again.

I think this is a good example of how a movie’s impact is tied to the age of the viewer.  It doesn’t matter that Ghostbusters came out before I was born- so did the Star Wars/Indiana Jones/Back to the Future trilogies and they’re some of my all-time favorites.  The difference is I saw all of those sometime in elementary school, whereas for one reason or another I never managed to see all of Ghostbusters before getting it through Netflix.  The window of opportunity for me to fall in love with it was long closed, but that doesn’t mean I don’t understand why people do.  After all, I wouldn’t expect anyone who saw Jurassic Park over the age of thirteen to love it as much as I did as a kindergartner.

I was going to make a joke about still wearing dinosaur pajamas, but have you ever seen such a punchable face?

2) I Have Turtle Blindness

And by that I mean that not only can I not properly identify each Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle, I had no idea that they each had distinctive personalities like “party guy” and “the one who computers” until a few years ago.  I knew the four names and most of the weapons but couldn’t match them to the corresponding turtles to save my life.  Which would be the stupidest Saw scene ever.

I just see four turtles. Not sure if that makes me progressively open-minded or racist

Unlike the Ghostbusters entry, I have no excuse for this one.  I had all the toys and spent every Saturday morning getting in trouble for kicking walls after the cartoon got me amped up.  It also can’t be that I was too young to comprehend because I was a Power Rangers fan as well and could easily match all the teenz with their armor and Zords and weapons, ladies.

The craziest part is that all of this information is in the show’s opening:

3) I Liked M. Night Shyamalan Way Past His Expiration Date

I don’t think I’m breaking new ground by saying M. Night is pretty much a joke now.  He got super lucky with The Sixth Sense, then got cocky, now he’s universally despised.  However, I disagree with most people on when he started to suck.  The general consensus is that Sixth Sense and Unbreakable were good but Signs was when the cracks appeared and it was all downhill from there.

I know I’m gonna catch flack for this, but Signs is the scariest movie I’ve ever seen not counting a traumatizing childhood event that I plan on writing about in a later post.  I had trouble sleeping the night after seeing it despite being fourteen at the time.  

I don’t get scared by movies, excluding the previously mentioned life-defining trauma and seeing Jaws when I was young.  While I can enjoy Jaws now without getting scared, I still tear up during the scary scenes in Signs.  You know, the ones that I know exactly when they’re coming.  When I say tear up I mean I literally have a visceral reaction of terror that I can’t control but is somehow different from crying.  I cry in movies all the time and have no trouble admitting when I do, but it’s usually during bittersweet moments.

Here’s an unrelated and randomly selected image

Even The Village didn’t lose me.  I thought the monsters were pretty spooky and the twist was decent, but I was also a stupid teenager at the time.  I haven’t rewatched it so I might feel differently now.  I haven’t watched anything else he’s done, but I still shamefully keep quiet when I’m talking about his movies with people and Signs gets brought up as the beginning of the end of his career.

“Why is he crying?”         “Why are we slowly walking towards him?”

4) I Think I Like Batman And Robin Better Than The Dark Knight Rises

Woo boy.  I saved the worst for last.  I’m pretty sure I’m going to lose friends over this one.

“We don’t like you anymore!”       “I think we’re sending mixed signals….”

The explanation is simple: one movie gives me exactly what I expect it to, the other disappoints me by falling short of its potential.

To revisit the general theme of this post, I was eight when I saw Batman and Robin.  It was my first experience with non-cartoon Batman and I was too young to realize how cheesy and campy it was.  I saw bright colors, fighting, and ice puns that were better than anything I could come up with at the time.

“Hey Mom- CUBE to see you! Wait hold on…”

Uma Thurman also instilled in me a lifelong love for redheads as evidenced by my redheaded girlfriend in Colorado.

I’ve seen BaR since, and I know it’s terrible, but I have too many memories associated with it to give up on it.  It’s my deadbeat brother who I know will never change but I keep loaning him money anyway.  Cuz of love and stuff.  Also, it knows it’s terrible.  The same cannot be said for The Dark Knight Rises, mostly because it isn’t terrible.  It is, however, a very frustrating movie with a very high opinion of itself.  I loved The Dark Knight just like the rest of the country so I had high hopes that weren’t even close to met.  I know fulfilling my nerdy predictions isn’t the movie’s responsibility, but there are so many plot holes that I have trouble enjoying the movie.  Batman and Robin is so ludicrous that anyone examining the logic of the story deserves to be slapped.  TDKR, like the rest of the Nolan trilogy, prides itself on its realism and serious tone, making the leaps in logic stand out in sharp contrast.  Basically, I can sum it up like this: Batman and Robin is a terrible movie that I enjoy watching because of its place in my childhood, The Dark Knight Rises is a good movie that I find unwatchable because of all the plot holes and inconsistencies.

Also, anyone accusing the other Batman movies of cheesy dialogue should rewatch this scene:

Or this one (at 0:30):

Ice puns are rough, but “cat got your tongue” might be the worst/most overused movie line ever.  I know I groaned out loud during that part in the theater.  My Cancun girlfriend hit me in the ribs, but what else should I have expected from a fiery chestnut brunette?

The Star of Literature

If you’re anything like me, you have more books on your “To Read” list than you could get to in a single lifetime. If you’re also like me, you hate reading similar books back-to-back and have to frequently change up which genres you’re hitting (this is also called “living with undiagnosed obsessive-compulsive disorder”). Because I’m always thinking of my readers (and NOT because I’m unemployed with too much time on my hands), I came up with this chart. Simply follow the arrow after you finish a book in that genre to ensure you’re getting enough variety in your diet. Note: these are the most general genres I could think of. Don’t comment to complain that I left off “Post-Apocalyptic-Steam-Punk-Young-Adult-With-A-Love-Triangle.” Just replace the genres you don’t like with ones you do. Also, “Fiction” means literary novels. A simple litmus test is to mention the book to an English major. If they roll their eyes, it isn’t literary. If they say it’s one of their favorites, it’s literary. Also, they’re lying.

Specific Genres

I’ve always had fairly eclectic tastes in entertainment.  When picking a new book to start I have to take into consideration the genres of the last three I read so I don’t ignore one in favor of others.  Ask me what my favorite show of all time is and I’ll ask you to specify if we’re talking comedy or drama or overall and you’ll walk away before hearing me give my top five in each category.    

I can find something to like in any of the major genres, but what I really love are the obscure genres that no one talks about, the ones that can’t be summed up as just crime procedural or drama or workplace comedy.  These always take place within the more general genres we’re all used to, but once you know the cues you’ll see them everywhere.  Here are my five favorites.

1)Spectrum of Guilt

Examples: Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, many episodes of Law and Order: Something Something, I’m guessing John Grisham novels, probably

These are stories that revolve around a crime (almost always a murder), but instead of asking “Whodunit?” the central question is “Whyhedunit?”  The murderer is usually revealed in the first act or is never concealed at all, with the rest of the time devoted to the trial and trying to determine if it was self-defense, pre-meditated, who shot first, etc.  There’s no question of if they’re guilty, only how guilty.

The reason this genre is enjoyable is because it is much more true to life, with most real-world trials boiling down to motivation and state of mind and pre-existing conditions.  It isn’t about proving they’re guilty but determining whether they get the death penalty or life in a mental hospital.  The irony, for me anyway, is that I can’t stand to watch the real trials.  Like most people, I take a much more black and white view when it comes to murderers and hate seeing courtroom coverage of major trials.  What was exciting and engaging with fictional characters becomes infuriating and hard to look at with real people.  Good thing I’m starting off on such an upbeat note.

2)Cat and Equally Dangerous Mouse, like maybe he has a gun or something

Examples: Breaking Bad, The Wire

Like the previous entry, these are typically crime dramas and procedurals but with some sort of twist that complicates things.  Sometimes that means they know who the criminals are and where they are but they can’t make a move without a strong enough case or permission from higher ups, as in The Wire.  The cops and gang members interact in broad daylight frequently on the show, but the cops can’t do anything without a warrant or more evidence.

I’ve never wanted to be a criminal as bad as when I saw that scene for the first time.  Idris Elba’s character is the #2 of a massive drug empire and he’s sitting in a courtroom we can assume is full of cops, across the aisle from the detective who has sworn to put him behind bars, and he just does not care.  This would be like Darth Vader eating watermelon at the Rebel Alliance Annual Family Fun Day or Jaws doing laps in your pool.  Right in the middle of the lion’s den, daring someone to do something about it.  It’s so much more complicated and interesting than “Search for the guy, arrest/kill him when you find him.”

Another twist is where the rivals know each other but one or both don’t realize it.  In Breaking Bad, main character/meth cooker/cancer haverer Walter White’s brother-in-law is also the DEA agent hot on his trail.  This creates all sorts of awesome moments where Hank, the in-law, talks about the case with Walt, giving him details that help him get the upper hand.  A similar things occurs in the first Spider-Man, where the main villain is also Peter Parker’s best friend’s dad and eventually figures out the hero’s identity.

3)Lazy Genius

Examples: Skinny Pete on Breaking Bad, Nick on Freaks and Geeks

This isn’t so much a genre as it is a character type, and I think this scenes sums it up perfectly:

That guy is your classic multitasker, being both a meth junkie and dealer, and nothing about the character before that scene hinted at any kind of hidden talent.  In fact, that comes from the fifth season and before that Skinny Pete was just comic relief, an idiot who tried to act hard and play pretend gangster.

The basic description of the character type is “person who is really lazy and ambitionless but is secretly a prodigy.”  Nick on Freaks and Geeks was a burn-out who couldn’t go a day without lighting up but was a star basketball player before discovering his new hobby.  It’s always used for comedic effect and seems to draw its inspiration from the famous Einstein quote “Everybody is a genius.  But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid.  Also, don’t smoke meth.”  I’m not quite sure why this character type appeals to me so much, but I can guess.

That thirsty fish flopped around college for six years, covered in splinters

4)Mundane

Examples: King of the Hill, Parks and Rec, Friday Night Lights

Most sitcoms and dramas claim to take place in the real world, but it’s one full of beautiful people who have dream jobs they never have to go to.  Their days are exciting and interesting and kind of exhausting if you had to actually live it.  King of the Hill might be animated, but it’s probably the most realistic show ever.  Whole episodes center around a trip to the hardware store or job troubles, not as a cupcake baker or travel writer, but as a substitute teacher.  Friday Night Lights was so good at being normal that the one season that tried to be exciting is easily the worst.  Parks makes bureaucratic government work seem fun.

They all still have elements that are slightly ridiculous or too convenient but much less than other shows.  I actually have a weird kind of belief that these shows are good for people, that watching something that highlights the little joys and victories in everyday life is probably healthier than unobtainable wish-fulfillment.  I might be wrong, but I know I would much rather be hardworking, honorable father of two Coach Taylor living in a one story house than some rich genius crime solver whose apartment is granite and marble everything from that one show.  I don’t even have to name it, because it’s all of them.

5)Important Things Happen Off-Screen

Examples: The League, Game of Thrones, Friday Night Lights, The Road

Sometimes this applies to shows about a close-knit group of friends, like in The League.  The important thing here would be the guys meeting and becoming friends, as well as the origins of their inside jokes.  A lot of sitcoms introduce the characters in the pilot, whether because one of them moves next door or they start working together or whatever.  I prefer jumping in with a group that is already well-established and doesn’t slow down for me.  Many of the jokes the guys use on The League are never given any kind of context or explanation, they’re just used and everyone understands it, just like in a real group of friends.  Friendships are just more interesting to examine when there’s a shared history and plenty of established back story to draw upon.  My best friend and I have our back and forth down to a science and enough stories to tell for three days straight before repeating anything.  I promise you’ll be entertained if you hang out with us.  However, we’ve known each other our entire lives, setting up the most boring origin story ever.

It begins….

Sometimes the important event is the most important thing to the story but better left to the imagination.  The Road is a post-apocalyptic novel/movie that takes place years after the apocalypse that’s never identified.  Battles in Game of Thrones are mostly talked about after the fact by characters who weren’t there and rarely experienced from a character’s first hand perspective.  Friday Night Lights is, on the surface, about high school football, yet after the first season most games were given as little screen time as possible and some were only talked about afterwards.  With the last two especially the focus away from the action serves the greater narrative, as FNL only uses football as a vehicle to explore characters and deeper themes and GoT is more about behind the scenes scheming and string pulling than swords and knights.

The first person to spot an example of one of these I didn’t note and leave a comment about it wins my diploma or something of equal or lesser value (my minor).

Stupid Principles

Considering I am less than two weeks away from graduating college, it seemed only right to do an article related to that.  To lead with “I didn’t like college” would be a costly mistake since I would have to replace the computer screens of everyone I went to school with who read it and spewed soda on their laptop while trying not to laugh.  Anyone who knew me during my time knows I loathed school, to the point that even being on the home stretch isn’t enough to stop me from fantasizing about dropping out.  In fact, I’m currently writing this in the library while ten feet away my group works on our final project.

Picture unrelated-they walked by and I had to look busy

A large part of why I’m so burnt out is because I’m in what I like to call “overtime”, meaning I’m past my regulation four years.  I won’t say how far past, but I will say I’m the only student in any of my classes who was born in the 80s.

I do my best to blend in

There are a lot of factors that conspired to keep me here.  Some of the blame lies with my university (they wanted another season out of me as QB), but most lies with me.  I am a principled man, but I’m also an idiot, so these are the three stupid principles of my college years.  Whether or not they led to the Victory Lap 500, I’ll let you decide.

1) I refused to take notes

My memory is both a blessing and a curse.  On the one hand, I can remember all sorts of facts for years and years, easily recalling them whenever I so choose.  On the other hand, it makes me incredibly arrogant and cocky.  I sit in class and listen instead of writing, telling myself that I’m an “auditory learner”.  To a degree that’s true, but it doesn’t do a lot of good when your auditories are preoccupied with picking out all the weird ticks in your classmates’ voices while your learner is busy imagining what it would be like to be able to jump, like, so far you guys.  Also, my brain has a weird filter where it can only remember useless things that will never make me rich or successful outside of a pub.  Behaving like some sort of solvent molecule, Dumbledore’s full name passes right through the partially permeable barrier of my brain while the definition of osmosis gets trapped on the outside, never to be recalled again.

Also, it just makes me look cool.

2) My first draft was my final draft

I will read this article no less than three times before I publish it, making absolutely sure there are no grammatical errors or better ways to say that I am, like, so dumb you guys.  I take pride in my work and want to put out the best version possible.

I have a twenty page paper due Friday (haven’t started) and I would write it on a typewriter if I could, handing pages to my professor as I finish them in class.  I have never written a paper in stages, writing multiple drafts that keep changing through revisions and corrections, and I don’t see me breaking that habit in the last fourteen days of my academic career.

I blame this principle on my teachers.  I am/was an English major so I wrote many large papers a semester, always cranking them out a night or two before the due date, meaning I didn’t have time for multiple revisions.  Never made less than a B and the majority were As.  They positively reinforced my horrible habit by leading me to believe it “ain’t broke” and therefore not in need of “fixin'”.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m not some sort of literary prodigy, spitting out masterpieces without even trying.  I’m just a firm believer in going with your gut and not over thinking things, knowing that I’m only going to make things worse if I keep tweaking and adjusting.  If I were to read through my papers it would only make me start worrying that I totally missed the mark and needed to start over, and I just don’t have time for that.

3) I never took midterms/finals seriously

This is another principle that I don’t feel I deserve all the blame for.  Because of the nature of English classes, there’s no real way to “study” or prepare.  Either you’ve heard the class discussions and done the readings, or you haven’t.  Some teachers do make you identify passages or memorize publication dates, but those teachers are mean, and according to my mommy, you “don’t pay mean people no mind!”

Unlike in almost any other major, English tests are pretty arbitrary.  The papers are infinitely more important to your grade and should accordingly receive much more attention and dedication.  The tests are more of a requirement that don’t really affect anything, meaning you (I) can (did) horribly fail a midterm and do worse on the final while still getting a C in the class.  The teachers just kind of give you what they think you deserve at the end.  I don’t think they want to do the math associated with calculating the final grade so they base it off a)how much you talked in class and b)how smart you seemed, which is great news when you’re a well-read class clown.  I talked a lot but it was always in an attempt to make the class laugh and anytime I was asked a question I just threw around literary buzzwords until the teacher left me alone.  If that’s all it takes, why would I get all worked up about a test that doesn’t really have a meaningful impact?

Early Onset Fatherhood

Regular readers will know that my posts are typically lighthearted and silly, often poking fun at facets of everyday life.  I tend to shy away from posts that get too personal without being self-deprecating or anecdotal without a punchline.  Somethings, however, are too important not to write about.  It is with this in mind that I write about something that has permanently altered the course of my life, although whether for the better or the worse is yet to be determined.

 

While only 24 years old, I am prematurely becoming a dad.

 

Not literally of course, unless the rules have changed and conception now begins with staring at the back of a girl’s head in class then pretending to be fascinated by your work when she makes eye contact with you.  Meaning aviators are protection, I guess?

“Don’t be an asses, put on your glasses”

No, what I’m referring to is that fact that I seem to be rapidly gaining the characteristics and appearance of a man of forty.  Actually, now that I think about it, I might need to change the title of this post to something more fitting and less sensational.   After all, I wouldn’t want to attract a whole bunch of extra readers because people think they’re about to read some sort of scandalous admission.

 

1)Practicality

There’s nothing I love more than discovering a new way to cut costs or shave time off my daily routine, even if the payoff is measured in cents and seconds.  I have my coffee maker programmed so that it finishes brewing right as my alarm goes off, not only so the smell of coffee helps me wake but also so I can have a mug cooling as I shower, ensuring perfect temperature when I’m ready to drink it.  Did I mention I measure out the exact amount of water and grounds needed to brew exactly enough coffee to fill my slightly-larger-than-normal mug?  And that I made myself learn to drink it black to save money on cream and sugar but I usually add cinnamon because I once read about it’s positive benefits on vascular health?

I take the bus to school and work, not only to save gas but so I can knock out my homework while I’m sitting there with nothing else to do but stare at girl’s heads.  My office is on the first floor but I take the stairs up to the fourth floor for bathroom breaks as a way to sneak in little bouts of cardio throughout the day.  I use my dog as both a companion and a blanket.

There’s no easier way to get me to click on a link than using the words “hack” or “tip”.  I read every single one I come across, despite the surprising amount of overlap.  It doesn’t even matter if I can use the tip.

“That IS a great way to make sure my pantyhose don’t run!”

This chronic practicality applies to saving money as well, as any of my former roommates can attest to.  I’ve waged many a war with them over the thermostat, though not out of disagreement about climate.  Seeing as my body is roughly 80% fur, I like it cold as much as the next mythological beast who most likely lives in the Pacific Northwest.  The thing is, I’ll gladly suffer through mild discomfort if it means lowering the power bill.  Like a real dad, I have a sixth sense that alerts me when the thermostat is being messed with, hearing the “cha-ching!” of my bank account lowering in place of the “woosh!” of the air coming on.

I also pride myself on my Great Depression-level of thriftiness.  I keep pairs of shoes until wearing them puts holes in my socks.  Instead of throwing out candles whose wicks have burnt out, I place them in a pot with a small amount of water and bring it to a boil to melt the wax, ensuring I’m still getting my money’s worth from it.  I hold on to those metal tins coffee grounds come in.  I can’t really explain that one, they just seem like a good thing to keep things in, you know?  Now I’ll be prepared if I ever inherit a large amount of nails or discover a buried treasure of marbles.

2)Old-fashioned

I’ve always been slightly behind the times of my generation.  I saw my favorite band in concert when I was in high school and the members that were still alive were arthritic and palsied.  That said, it should come as no surprise that the only way to describe my feelings about technology is exhausted.

I’m just so worn out with all the new websites and apps and social media platforms.  A few days ago someone was describing some app that lets you take ten-second videos that loop and delete and then I blacked out.  I only have so much brainpower and I can’t keep wasting it on things like the virtual closet app Wr_drbe or that site that keeps track of all your other sites that keep track of everything you’ve read and watched and ate and smelt.  You know, Listr.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m no Luddite.  I utilize technology, I just do it on my own terms.  Which translates to “like someone who Googles ‘Ask Jeeves.com’ before searching for ‘cheap search engines'”.  I have a Twitter, but because I don’t have a smart phone I can only tweet from computers.  I follow a few Tumblrs, but instead of creating an account and subscribing, I manually check them everyday.  I once complained to my sister that I forgot a coupon, leaving the printout of the email on my desk.  As in, the email that was still in my inbox as I complained to her, five feet from her computer and printer.  You see what I’m getting at.

3)Appearance

There’s a peculiar trend in my family, popping up on both my mother and my father’s sides-we spend the first half of our lives looking years older than we really are, only to have the aging process abruptly halt in our mid-thirties, hardly aging for the next few decades.   My parents and grandparents all look much younger than they actually are, but my parents always tell stories about getting away with underage drinking or dating older boys (Dad was such a tease) because of how old they looked.  I’m currently experiencing the first half of this bizarre genetic blessing.

As far back as middle school, people calling our house thought I was my dad on the phone and I had my own success, er, skirting certain laws.  This premature aging isn’t slowing down anytime soon considering I found my first white hair at eighteen.  Not gray, but straight white.  They’ve doubled in number every year since.

The thing is, I couldn’t care less.  Going prematurely gray is infinitely more preferable to prematurely bald, and the men in my family wear it well.  My dad is full-on salt and pepper despite not yet being fifty and his father was completely white by thirty.  My luscious brown locks have no chance, but they both looked good and distinguished so I don’t sweat it.

This premature aging has another strange effect.  I have two younger sisters who are only three and five years younger than me, yet I don’t have a single memory of one of their friends ever having a crush on me.  Instead, as far back as I can remember, older women have been eatin’ UP what I’m pitching.  I know it isn’t unusual for your mom’s friends or your friend’s moms to dish out compliments, but when words like “strapping” and “hunk” and “delicious” start getting thrown around, you can’t help but notice.  I’ve never met the teacher/DMV employee/40+ receptionist I couldn’t charm.  Things don’t work out as well when I try it on my peers.  I wonder why.

“Er, excuse me, miss? I couldn’t help notice you wore a different braid this morning…”

I just always chalked it up to looking older than I was, which also explained why the girls my own age seemed uninterested.  I was just too mature for their tastes.  Right?  RIGHT?!?!

4)Relationships

Once my age catches up to my looks, I hope to find someone to settle down with.  However, I am particular in what I’m looking for.  More than love, more than a companion, more than a friend, what I want most is a woman to exasperate.  Allow me to explain.

Whether due to being raised by sitcoms or because of my particular sense of humor, my ideal wife is a woman constantly rolling her eyes at her husband’s jokes.  I want nothing more that someone who can only shrug, shake her head, and quietly chuckle at what an idiot I am, much in the vein of Homer Simpson or Tim Allen.  I’ve earned this reaction from my mom and sisters more times than I can count while also seeing it in my step mom after my dad has made the exact joke I was thinking.  I figure it isn’t much of a stretch to assume I’ll be continuing this tradition with my wife.  My favorite target to make fun of is myself, so any woman who can keep up and roast me right alongside…me….has already stolen my heart.

 

 

Now everyone knows my dark secret.  I figure by 2020 I’ll be driving a minivan and coaching Little League so, you know, line up now ladies.  I promise you’ll find me attractive if you’re just patient.