What? I’ve Been Busy

Posted September 2, 2010 by ThePowerOf10
Categories: Life, Travel

Really, I have been busy this summer.  “Doing what?” you ask?  Interesting question.  I have no idea.  It’s tough to explain, but I’ll try.  I at least owe you all that much.

So the last time I wrote was well over two months ago, just before I left for vacation with Wifey.  Beginning that week, and over the next four to six weeks, I was in all of the following places at some point in time, for some reason or another:

-Minneapolis, MN (four times)
-Spokane, WA (twice)
-Wenatchee, WA
-Leavenworth, WA
-Salt Lake City, UT
-Bemidji, MN (twice)
-Fargo, ND

See, I was really doing stuff for a while.  Did you really have visions of me camped out on the couch with a bag of Chili Cheese Fritos all summer?

Since my travels have ended, I have been working steady, and therein lies my problem.  My work schedule is not exactly conducive to allowing one’s productivity to be at its highest.  Allow myself to explain … myself.  Here’s a glimpse into an average day for me:

-I get up by around 9:30 (I know this is a late start by comparison, but more on that in a minute).

-I spend most of the morning/early afternoon doing all the random, mindless tasks that need to get done, but are barely worth mentioning.   By the end of the day, I look back and wonder what the hell I did the entire time.  Then I realize I didn’t do anything Earth-shattering, just a collection of 10-15 things that each take 5-15 minutes to do.  Before I know it, I blink and it’s 12:30.

-Around 12:30 I start my pre-work routine.  I eat some lunch, and put together a meal for my dinner that I will eat at work.  By 1:00 it’s time for me to shower and get dressed.  At 1:30 I’m out the door and on the way to work.

-I work until roughly 10:30 most nights, and I’m usually home by 10:45 or so.  When I get home, I kiss Wifey good night, as she is usually in bed when I arrive, then I do one of two things.  I either get cleaned up and go straight to bed, or I sit on my ass staring at either the TV or the computer for a couple of hours.  If I go straight to bed, it is inevitable that I will toss and turn, and sniffle and squirm for close to two hours.  It never fails.  It’s partially because I just got home from work 20 minutes ago and I haven’t had a chance to wind down, and it’s partially because for as long as I can remember, I’ve had what I like to refer to as low grade insomnia.  If I decide to try and wind down a little before hitting the sack, I usually try to do things that make my eyes tired.  Like I mentioned before, TV helps, as does the computer. Whatever I’m doing, I try to keep myself very lowly stimulated so I can try to get tired.  If I go on the computer, I’ll read newspaper articles, look at houses for sale, look at random things on eBay, yadda yadda yadda.  The whole idea is to make my eyes tired without keeping my brain too active.  When I write, I’m wide awake.

-I’m asleep by midnight on a good day, 1:30 on an average day.  Thus the reason I tend to sleep until 9:30.  The next morning, I wake up and do it all over again. So by starting my day at 9:30, and having to fall into my work routine by about 12:30, I am only allowed three hours per day to get everything done that I need to do.  Like I said, it’s usually nothing important.  Laundry, errands, chores around the house, feeding myself.  Mundane stuff.

In this sad, pathetic excuse for a schedule, I see Wifey a grand total of about 10 minutes a day.  We live in the same house and sleep in the same bed, and I feel lucky if I get more than 10 minutes of face time with her during the week.  I work different hours on Saturdays, (hours that are even worse than my 2-10:30 schedule. Basically, I’m unavailable from 4:15 am to 9:00 pm.  If you need anything from me between those hours, too bad, it has to wait).

So, taking into consideration that Wifey works a much more normal schedule, when it’s all said and done, the only day we have to spend together is Sunday.  We get up early together, and try to take advantage as much as possible.  We generally spend the entire day together, but the trouble is that since Sunday is a prime day for me, it’s also the day everyone else wants to see me.  My mom wants to see me, my dad wants me to come over, my grandma is cooking dinner and wants me to stop by, Wifey’s grandparents want to see us, we have errands to run … It gets exhausting trying to fit everyone and everything in. Especially when some days, all I want to do is put on pajama bottoms and an old t-shirt, and sit on a comfy chair watching the entire Back to the Future trilogy with my better half.

Not that I don’t enjoy seeing and spending time with family, it’s just difficult trying to cram it all into one day like I do.  Not to mention, this creates even less time that I have alone with Wifey.  All told, we probably spend about 12 hours a week together.  Sad huh?

All the little things you 9-to-5’ers take for granted are all the things I’d kill for.  I want to take my wife to dinner.  I want to go to the movies.  I want to sit at and watch the game on TV.  I want to see my family. I want to meet up with the guys for a beer and a game of pool.  I want to spend time with my friends.  Most of all, I want to spend time with my wife.

So, I’m sorry that I haven’t written anything since mid June.  I really wish I had more time for it.  I’ve had no less than a dozen posts that have practically written themselves in my head since the last time I posted, but when it comes down to making a decision between sitting on my computer and spending time with my wife, the computer is going to lose every single time.

For a while, I received a lot of text messages, Facebook messages, emails, phone calls, and even had a couple face-to-face encounters regarding my writing “habits.”  Mostly, it was people wondering when I was going to write again and why I hadn’t been writing at all.  Occasionally, it was a threat of physical harm, usually accompanied by an ultimatum; “Write something soon, or I am going to punch you in the face.”  That stuff is flattering.  So thank you all for continuing to read my stuff for the past two and a half years. I’m in a phase in life in which a lot of things are happening and changing, and it’s fun to be able to share it with my friends and family, and the random lurkers and creepers who leave anonymous comments, somehow find me on Facebook, and try to add me as a friend.  (You know who you are, don’t think I’ve forgotten).

I’m going to leave you with something I’ve said plenty of times before, and although it doesn’t necessarily guarantee results, I’ve meant it every time.  I really am going to try to find more time to write more often.  There are way too many things going on in this world that I have missed lately because of my time away from this blog.  For crying out loud, Lindsay Lohan got sentenced to jail time and I didn’t even get to publicly make fun of her for it.  That’s just not cool.

Anyway, come back occasionally to check on me.  Don’t come back everyday and then text me because I’m slacking, I know when I’m slacking.  My own wife tells me when I’m slacking.  Yeah, she’s on your side on this one.  She wishes I would write more, too.

Check in once a week or so, and if I really start slipping, feel free to call me out on it.  You at least owe me that much.

One love,




Posted June 17, 2010 by ThePowerOf10
Categories: Random

Hate to be all Debbie Downer and hit and run like this, but I don’t have much time to write.  I’m only dropping in to let you know that starting Sunday, I’ll be on vacation for a week and I seriously doubt I’ll be writing anything while I’m gone.  I’ve spent all this week getting myself and Wifey ready, and running errands and such.  I’ve got a few things in the works for posts when I get back though.

Hope everyone has a great week, and I’ll be back before you know it.

One love,


P.S.   I’ve killed three more squirrels since my last post.  I’m like the Rambo of the squirrel world.  Taking those furry cake-eaters out with extreme prejudice.

Cake > Squirrels

Posted June 5, 2010 by ThePowerOf10
Categories: Life

Instead of me pleading for forgiveness for my lack of writing, let’s both agree that I’m doing a poor job at keeping up with this blog, and get on with our lives. Agreed?  Good.

Now that we’ve got that out of the way, it’s story time.  Please gather around, find a spot on the carpet, and get comfortable.  Today’s story is going to be a tale of man versus beast.  But before we get too far into that, there are a few things you ought to know going into today’s story time session.

One month ago, I was on top of the world.  I had just married the love of my life, and we were beginning on our journey of wedded bliss.  One of the byproducts of this marriage came in the form of wedding cake.  During the planning of our wedding, the cake was one decision that was made rather quickly, and with what appeared to be a great deal of haste.  My lovely fiance at the time assured me that the cake was not a matter of concern, that it was incredibly delicious, and there was no chance of me not liking it. So, as it stood, we were going to order our wedding cake not from a bakery, but from a lady who bakes them out of her own kitchen … without me ever having tasted it.

Instead of one big ass cake, we ordered a bunch of sheet cakes in different flavors with different frostings; it was really a cake lover’s dream, and an experience I looked forward to, being a cake lover myself.   In the weeks leading up to the wedding, I was constantly reminded by my soon-to-be in-laws and my soon-to-be wife that the cake being made for us was going to be delicious beyond words, and that they could hardly stand the wait.

Then the day came, and I finally got to taste a piece of that cake.  And let me tell you this.  It was the BEST freakin’ cake I have EVER put in my mouth in my entire life.  I don’t know how to describe it.  It was the softest, most moist, most delicious cake ever. The perfect cake-to-frosting ratio, a frosting that was decadent without  being too sweet, and an overall taste that always left me wanting more.  The.  Perfect.  Cake.

Well, after the dust had settled, we realized we had a BUNCH of cake left from the reception.  We fed it to people as they stopped by to visit the weekend after the wedding, we gave it away in mass quantities to family and friends, but most of all, it was my go-to snack.  What more can I say, other than it is possibly the best dessert I’ve ever tasted, and I was pounding down cake like it was going out of style.

Anyway, I told you that story so that I may tell you this one …

We had so much cake leftover, and so much food in the house from the rehearsal and the wedding, we had to keep the cake in the screened porch just off the back of the house.  We covered it in plastic wrap and foil, and whenever we wanted a snack, we just grabbed a piece from the porch.

Then, one day, as I was sitting at work (probably dreaming of the very minute I would get home so I could have a piece of yellow cake with chocolate frosting), I got a text from my lovely wife.  We had been infiltrated.  Squirrels had gotten into the screened porch, and eaten most of the remaining leftover cake.

So, let’s recap.  Best cake ever … cake SO good, that the squirrels came from out of the woods, chewed their way through a metal screen, hopped up onto a table, ripped off the aluminum foil, and ate it.

I was devastated.  I put the fam 0n notice, stating that I would not rest until I had gotten my vengeance for the cake.  I was given the green light to take out any squirrels as I saw fit.  And so it began.  I started watching out the back window, waiting for squirrels to come around (they were always sniffing around the bird feeders).  I laid awake in bed at night, haunted by visions of squirrels frolicking around the woods with frosting on their faces.  When they did come around, I would grab the pellet gun, and sneak outside to try to gun those bastards down.  (By the way, you’ve gotta love living outside of town for this reason alone.  There I was darting and dashing through the back yard like I was in a James Bond movie, open firing on any and all vermin in the vicinity, and no one else probably even knew about it).

As time went by, I found myself struggling to notch a kill with the pellet gun.  I have absolutely no hunting in my background, and I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve shot a gun prior to this whole adventure. There was one occasion where I actually hit a squirrel with the pellet gun, but it only stunned him, and he was able to run into the woods.  I reached an easy conclusion:  I needed more fire power.  It became clear that I was more overmatched than I had anticipated.  Soon, my new weapon of choice was bestowed upon me.  It was a beautiful .22 long rifle.  Again, I was given the green light to fire away, and with my new artillery, and a newly instilled vote of confidence, I felt like I would finally bring an end to the squirrel reign that had terrorized countless birds, and of course, my wedding cake.

However, the kills did not come any easier with my new weapon.  I was scaring the everloving crap out of everything living within 200 yards, but I still couldn’t get the aiming down.  Then one afternoon, I had a bit of a revelation, and I figured out what I was doing wrong when I was aiming.  It was like a light went off.  After that, I did a little target practice, and I probably could have shot a flea off a dog’s back from half a mile.  Okay, maybe not, but I was on the money.

The next day, during my recon sweeps of the back yard, I spotted a menace. I ran to grab the gun, and darted outside.  I snuck oh-so quietly around some trees, and as the squirrel in question stood there, I slowly raised my barrel.  A shot rang out, but I had missed high.  The squirrel, clearly onto the fact that I was trying to kill him, made a dash for a nearby tree.  I stayed focused, and slowly followed his path with my sights.  I pulled the trigger, and time stood still for one brief second.  The squirrel, who had climbed up a few feet onto the trunk of a tree, stopped still in his tracks, and slowly slid down the tree and landed in a lump of 100% pure deadness.  I walked about 20 feet closer, and shot it again, just to ensure the job was done.

For a second, I reveled in a job well done.  I had begun to tip the scales in favor of the humans again.  No longer would squirrels meander about without the possibility of death looming over them.  But it was about this time when I looked into the back window, and saw my wife.  She was standing there with the saddest face I’ve maybe ever seen.  I quickly went inside, and asked her what was wrong, to which she replied by asking me if it was dead.  I assured her it was.  Then she said things I hadn’t expected to hear.  Things like, “But what about his little squirrel family? ” and “He was just eating his lunch,” and the one that crushed me, “What did he ever do to you?”  She wasn’t upset, just sad that a life had been taken, albeit a disgusting rodent life.  Nevertheless, I felt awful.  I was suddenly a heartless barbarian who let the thought of revenge plague him for so long, it moved him to kill.

Shortly after consoling my wife, I returned to the scene of the killing to clean up the evidence, so to speak.  Armed with a shovel, I made my way back toward the tree.  When I arrived upon the dead squirrel, I couldn’t help but notice the amazing amount of blood on the trunk of the tree.  I mean, seriously, who knew squirrels had so much blood.  Then, I looked down at my kill, and I saw where I had hit him.  RIGHT IN THE FACE.  I had literally shot the damn squirrel’s nose off, and about 1/4 of his face was missing.  Seeing that, coupled with the things Wifey had said to me, well, that was when I checked out.  I couldn’t handle it, and I got completely grossed out/disturbed that I had killed something, so I bolted.  Thank God my mother in law isn’t as much of a pansy as I am, because had she not thrown it into the woods, I probably would have left that squirrel there for years.

Ever since then, I’ve done some soul searching (not really) and decided that what I did was probably the right thing to do.  A squirrel is a menace, and despite the fact that I had shot and missed numerous times, they continued to come back to the yard in search of food.  Since the kill, I have seen only one squirrel in over a week, and he only dared to hang around for a minute or two.  Let’s face it, it was probably only a matter of time before I would have shot myself in the foot, so the sooner the shooting could end, the better.

I just wonder if I’ll have it in me to kill again if the times call for it.  Let’s make one thing clear, if it’s a matter of a squirrel’s life, and that cake, we had better start digging a squirrel cemetery, because I’m choosing the cake every single time.

One Love,


Adventures In Marriage, Part I

Posted May 21, 2010 by ThePowerOf10
Categories: Life

Alright, I’m starting to take some heat for having not written in a month.  With that in mind, I suppose I can take a little time to bring you up to speed.  The wedding, for all accounts and purposes, was amazing.  Call me cheesy and cliché, but it was truly the best day of my life.  It was such a blessing to share that day with so many friends and family members, and as if that weren’t enough, everything went perfectly.   As the date grew closer, it became second nature to begin thinking of all the things that could go wrong on the big day, but after a while, a calm came over me knowing that no matter what happens, I was still getting to marry the love of my life.  After that, I was completely relaxed, and nothing could have phased me. 

Not even smacking my head on a steel beam under a bridge downtown during pictures. Long story short, the photographer thought it would be a good idea for all of us to take a picture under a bridge, and while I was slithering my way into position, I walked directly into a giant beam head first.  Firsthand accounts reported to me have said that the sound echoed loudly throughout the greater downtown area, and local officials and engineers were called onto the scene shortly thereafter to verify that the bridge’s structure was still in tact.  Luckily for me, I suffered no injury, just a bump on the noggin. 

Speaking of the photographer, since I’ve gotten a few requests for pictures, I will be happy to post a couple of them that I’ve seen so far.  I’m sure the photographer has been working tirelessly to put together the proofs for us, since she probably took just south of a million pictures that day, so for now, I’ve only seen five or six pictures myself.  Here are a couple of my favorites so far:


The past three weeks of married life have been wonderful as well.  We both had to get back to work relatively soon after the wedding, but we got a chance to leave town for a few days and completely relax, which was well-deserved and absolutely perfect.  In addition, we’re planning a full honeymoon later this year, and are still undecided on the location.  Hit me with some ideas.  We’re thinking somewhere tropical/island-ish/low chance of being stabbed-ish.  My initial vote was for a Caribbean cruise, but I’m open to words like Jamaica, Hawaii, and Costa Rica. 

Also, we just made our first big purchase together as a married couple this past Monday in the form of a new ride.  For those of you who had the pleasure of meeting Gladys, my 1996 Chevy S-10, you can attest that she is nothing short of a gem.  However, her days in the sun were dwindling quickly, and the time was right.  So, since Gladys has been parked for the forseeable future, allow me to introduce you to her successor, Phyllis:


Okay, so maybe the name is a work in progress.  Nevertheless, this is our brand new 2010 Toyota Highlander.  For the record, I’m not the one who double parked it in the handicapped accessable spot.  I’m better than that. 

I do have a lot more to write about, but as fate would have it, I am running short on time.  I swear I’m going to try to get back into a regular rhythm of writing now. For the most part, the hectic times have settled down, but we still have a few things going on.  Next week I’ll be schmoozing it up at a couple of graduation parties, and I have a whole lot of thank yous to write.  And a month from now, Jess and I are heading west to visit her sister and brother-in-law, who are expecting their first child (and coincidentally, our first niece) around that time. 

The next blog post will reveal the details of what has become an epic battle between man and beast that yours truly has enveloped himself in.  Tune in for that one. 

One love,


If You A Fly Girl, Get Your Nails Done, Get A Pedicure, Get Your Hair Did

Posted April 21, 2010 by ThePowerOf10
Categories: Life

T-minus 8 days (and about a half hour).  The days are going faster than I ever expected, and I couldn’t be happier about it.  I guess I owe most of that to the fact that it’s spring, and days always go faster in spring and summer than they do in winter.  Plus, most of my time outside of work has been spent keeping busy doing various wedding-related things.  My days, although usually filled with tasks, have been so enjoyable lately.  Mostly it’s because I know that every day I complete brings me one day closer to April 30th.

A lot of people have been congratulating me lately, saying things like, “Ohhh it’s getting closer!” and “So exciting, it’s almost here!”  But for every time I hear such nice words as those, I have to deal with people who insist on asking me if I’m ready.  “Are you ready to be married?”  Or even better: “Are you nervous?”  That one kind of bothers me.  It also bothers me when people say things like, “Still time to get out of it!”  or “It’s not too late to run!”  I mean, surely they’re saying it light-heartedly, but how in the hell am I supposed to respond to that?  How is that even funny to begin with? What am I supposed to say?  “You’re right, it’s NOT too late.  Thank God you brought that to light.  Screw this, I’m OUT.  THE WEDDING IS OFF!”  My response has remained the same since day one.  A simple, yet emphatic “No.”

Why would I be nervous?  I’ve never been so ready and excited for anything in my entire life.   Show me a man who’s nervous about getting married, and I’ll show you a man who is not ready to be married.  I have absolutely nothing to be nervous about, people.   It’s one thing to be nervous about the actual wedding itself,  (even still, I’m not)  but people have asked me if I’m nervous about being married.  Not even the slightest bit.  Again, if someone is nervous about their future marriage, they aren’t ready.  It’s that simple.  A marriage should begin with absolutely no reservation from either the bride or the groom.  If you’ve got uncertainty, then getting married isn’t going to solve that.  You’re either ready, or you’re not.  I am ready.  There, I’ve said my piece.

Onto lighter things.  Things that will undoubtedly lead to me being made fun of.  Lately, in preparation for the big day, I’ve taken to some behaviors that are very atypical of my usual routine.  It all started a couple of weeks ago, when Jess’ aunt and mom were talking, and the topic came up about pictures.  Her aunt implored her mom to start tanning so as to not look like a direct descendant of Casper the friendly ghost in all of the wedding-day pictures.  This created a trickle down effect, by which Jess was thrust into the world of tanning salons in order to ensure that she has a tasteful glow about her.

And then we come to me.  The time finally came when Jess said to me, something to the effect of, “You know, maybe you should start tanning too, just so you don’t look so pale compared to all of us.”  Eh, I’m an easy going guy, and it’s tough to emerge from a Minnesota winter without looking like you were rolled in a giant bag of flour, so I humbly agreed.  It’s not the worst thing, and I tan pretty easily, so it won’t take much for me to get a little color on me.  And by “color” I don’t mean orange.  I don’t plan on having an Oompa Loompa-themed wedding, nor do I plan on our wedding pictures looking like a casting photo from Jersey Shore.  However, these pictures are going to be around for a long time, so it’s not horrible to take precautions so I don’t forever look like I was trapped indoors for 6 years playing World of Warcraft.

Trust me, there will be no “Snookies,” and no “Situations” at this wedding.  No acid washed jeans either, what is this, 1987?

So, the tanning is just the tip of the iceberg that is my recent swing into metrosexuality. Delving deeper, I have every intention of going to the barber shop a day or two before the wedding to get a final once over.  Trim around the ears, clean up the neck hair, snip off any hairs gone wild, that sort of thing.  Normally, I get a haircut every six weeks or so, and that’s that.  I don’t even look at my hair, let alone brush it in between.  It’s short enough so that I just get out of bed, take a shower, and go about my life.  Not this week.  I’m stepping my game up.

As we continue, we learn that Jess will be treated to the pleasure of plucking my eyebrows.  I don’t have a hardcore unibrow or anything, just a few strays that show the world than I do in fact come from Italian descent.  Normally, I have no problem mowing those bad boys down with my shaver, but this being the special occasion that it is, I am going to let my future wife mercilessly rip them out of my flesh with a tweezer while I cry out in pain for my mother.  Yeah, I’m a total sissy about it.  She’s done it once before, just to see what it was like, and I thought I was going to die.  I don’t know how you chicks do that crap all the time.

And if all of that weren’t enough, I am fairly sure that I will be going to get a manicure next week.  In all fairness, I work in a warehouse and with heavy machinery, so my hands tend to take a beating, and can get pretty filthy.  Furthermore, my previous fingernail care regimen consisted of me clipping them once every week or so, and just waiting for the dirt under them to fall out.  Not to mention, my cuticles are a hot mess.  So, I’ll be spending a lovely block of time in the salon with wifey-to-be as she gets her mani-pedi on.  And I’m gonna sit there, read Us Weekly, and get my nails done like a man.   That’s right, I’m putting the “man” in manicure.

Now I know what you’re thinking.  You’re sitting there in your Spongebob pajamas, eating Cheetos, playing online chess against some kid in Denmark (who, by the way, just took your queen), and you’re thinking, “Wow, he’s not even married yet and he’s already whipped.”  Well in the words of Lee Corso, not so fast my friends.  I did not have to be coaxed into any of these decisions.  Matter of fact, I came up with two of the four on my very own.  The other two were mentioned in passing, and I took it upon myself to do them.  Well, except Jess bought me a tanning package, but not cause she’s making me go tanning, because she was there that day, and she loves me.  So try not to think too little of me.  I’m still a man.

By the way, tanning, haircut touch-ups, eyebrow plucking, and manicures … does it strike anyone else as being slightly ironic that the week leading up to my wedding will undoubtedly be the most homosexual week of my life?

One love,


Allow Me To Clear The Air

Posted April 9, 2010 by ThePowerOf10
Categories: Life

Aaaaand mark it.  Thursday, November 19th, 2009 was the day I posted this entry, in which I covered, among other things, a possible smoking ban in all casinos, bars, and truck stops in Grand Forks.  This led to a debate in the comments section between myself and a friend which concluded with me saying, “Are you going to be upset when you realize I’m right next year when North Dakota passes the same laws that Minnesota has?”

Well, fast forward six months.  Are you upset Bigsby?  Finally, finally, finally the smoking ban passed with a 4-3 vote in the city council.  Beginning August 15th, anyone who would like to smoke while at the bar will be asked to do so outside, at least 15 feet away from the entrances and exits.  Now I know this ban is going to piss off a lot of people, but count me among the many who think this is clearly for the better.  Granted, I haven’t exactly been spending a lot of time at the bar lately, but on the rare occasions when I do go, I can now go without having to submerse myself in bleach afterward.

I can spend time at the dollar blackjack tables at Southgate without having to shave my entire body and burn my clothes just to rid myself of the awful stench that had always followed me home before.  I can go have a beer and watch a game (two things I am far removed from right now) without holding my breath and inevitably needing two industrial sized tubs of Visine and a half dozen Tylenol to alleviate the itchy eyes and headache I always succumb to.  But most of all, I can go to the pool hall and enjoy the fresh air while I play.  This will be the one that has the biggest bearing on my life.  My pool league just got a hundred times better. You haven’t seen a smoke cloud until you’re on a five person pool team playing against another five person team, and you’re the only one of the ten people in that 200 square foot area not smoking.  No longer will I have to hop myself up on Benadryl just to avoid getting sick on league nights.

As expected, there seems to be a lot of apprehension about the law from business owners who fear that they are going to lose business over this deal.  Honestly, I don’t see it.  Every area business will be completely smoke free, therefore the playing field is still level, and you are not losing patrons to competing businesses who still allow smoking, as there will be none.  Bar owners, please listen to what I am about to say … People are not going to stop drinking just because they have to smoke outside.  Not in this town.  Not in a town whose college consistently ranks in the top two for highest binge drinking rates in the nation.  Not in a town that has almost nothing else to do BUT drink.  I mean come on, we don’t even have an Olive Garden or a Sonic here.  People will still come and get smashed.  And then they’ll go to Taco Bell because we don’t have a freakin Sonic.

If anything, I think this might evoke a slight upturn in business.  Sure, maybe business will slow briefly while people adjust to the new law, but eventually things will come back to normal.  Meanwhile, a night on the town just became that much more appealing to people like me who, for the most part, don’t mind being out, but don’t like it enough to deal with the smoking.  I think there are a lot of people like me who will be more likely to visit local establishments once the ban takes effect.

The only potentially negative thing that I see coming out of this is when winter rolls around.  I really am interested to see what comes of that.  There are going to be a lot of hard decisions made when it’s 40-below zero outside and you can’t light up inside.  Not like I care, really.  I mean, you (smokers) made your decision.  Now it comes down to how much it means to you.  If you’re stupid enough to risk frostbite for a few puffs, then be my guest.  On the other hand, if you can manage to go a few hours of your life without one, then you can stay warm with the rest of civilization.  The choice is yours.

Completely changing the subject, I realize that I haven’t exactly been “writing a lot lately,” and I know I don’t “meet any of your expectations.”  Maybe I’m not the most “efficient blogger,” and I’m not “pleasant to look at.”  I don’t “wear deodorant” and I can’t “see my feet sometimes.”  I can’t “tie my own shoes,” and I lack “the fundamental basics for human survival.”  Okay, in case you don’t know what the hell I’m referencing in this paragraph, please watch this video.

Anyway, I hope I’m being cut just a little slack since I’m getting married in three weeks.  I’ve actually been so busy over the past month or two, I had to start writing stuff down in a calendar.  What?  Stop laughing, I’m serious.  I’ve always been able to keep track of things quite well in my head, but let’s face it, it’s mostly because I barely ever had anything to do.  I hope this post gets you through the weekend though, because I’ll be attending a wedding Friday, I have a pool tournament Saturday, and I’m road tripping to Fargo to pick up my suit for the wedding (and watching whatever I can of the Masters) on Sunday.  And yes, all of those things are in my calendar … right next to my meetings with your mom.

One love,


Today’s Sign Of The Apocalypse

Posted March 31, 2010 by ThePowerOf10
Categories: Random

Yesterday while at work (so I guess that should make the title “Yesterday’s Sign Of The Apocalypse,” but too late, I already wrote it) one of my co-workers and I had this exchange:

Him: “Hey, did you know there was an earthquake in Chile?”
Me: “Yeah, that was over a month ago.”
Him: “Yeah, I never heard about it.”
Me: (Struggling to stifle all of the mean, sarcastic thoughts running through my head) “How is that even possible?”

Let’s take a break there to acknowledge the fact that this person has clearly been living under a rock lately.  I half expected him to ask me if I had heard about an earthquake in Haiti, or a tsunami in the Indian Ocean, or if I was aware that the Twin Towers were under terrorist attack, or if I knew the Cold War was over.  Okay, back to the events that occurred yesterday at work. It bears noting that while this conversation was going on, my co-worker was sitting in front of a computer.  Immediately after he asked me about the earthquake in Chile, he clicked to Google, said “I’m gonna check this out,” and started typing …

C – H- I- L- I

And he hit enter.  He seemed surprised that the only things that came up were listings for Chili’s restaurants, and recipes for chili con carne.  Nothing of an earthquake.

And we wonder why the rest of the world mocks us and looks down its collective nose at us.  We wonder why our culture is considered one of the dumbest of all the developed nations.  All I could say was, “Seriously, more MSNBC.com, less Facebook.”

One love,