Wednesday, May 30, 2007

Psst! Hey buddy...

From time to time, life deals you a “what-the-hell” moment and it is my opinion that we should savor these like fine wine…if for no other reason than to laugh at life and shake your fist at the doom-sayers.

The other night I was dealt just such a moment.

Many studies have been done with regard to the makeup of the criminal mind. Never has behavioral science met such a conundrum as the multi-tasking ability of a wrongdoer in action. How they plan, how they implement, seeing all angles, cover upon cover…it’s staggering how the successful thief relies on his keen intellect to stay one step ahead of law enforcement.

…and then there’s Greenville, Mississippi.

While watching my local news, they began to report on a story that was shocking in its magnitude and “what-the-hell”ishness. It seems there has been a rash of burglaries in the city. These were robberies that affected all residents with equal fear and trepidation. This was no simple string of break-ins. Nor were the crimes perpetrated against jewelry merchants or pawn shops.

No…these Crime Lords were stealing speed bumps. Yes, I said speed bumps. As in bumps in the street to reduce the speed of vehicles. Yeah, those.

Apparently, a group of dastardly criminals (I’m assuming it’s a group, which makes this even more sad) has been using a crowbar to PRY these speed bumps from the road and taking them away. After I stopped gawking at the screen and closed my mouth, I began to ponder the impact of such a heinous crime, and the questions came immediately:

1. What is the street value of a used speed bump?
2. Why haven’t I heard about the speed bump cartel in Greenville until now?
3. How are we going to stop the unnecessary speeding NOW?
4. Why were the stripes left in the road? Aren’t they are a valuable accessory?

Please feel free to comment on this masterful crime to help me understand better and make some sense of this evil world.

Thursday, May 17, 2007

He Touched What?!


Hello again, friends and neighbors!

Today's episode: on the road to vasectomy.

After many years (and just as many children), I finally decided to take the first steps towards neutering. Now, I know there are some of you who think this is a drastic step and somehow makes me less of a man...au contraire, mon frer! I'm done with populating the world. Kaput. Over. Finito.

I met my urologist today, the somewhat grandfatherly Dr. Daly. Waiting for his arrival, I spent the obligatory 1.5 hours in the patient area, thumbing through magazines. Once called back, I did my thing in a cup (no, not THAT thing you perverts) and waited some more in Exam Room 1. As I sat there, I pondered the deeper meanings of vasectomy. Is this really the way I wanted to go? Do I really think this is my only option? What in the world does Lindsey Lohan see in that shlub she's currently dating?

My thoughts were abruptly ended upon the entrance of "The Doc". Since I haven't really ever started a conversation about my reproductive system with another man before, I opened with a jovial, "How's it hangin'?" In hindsight, I can't help but chuckle at my cleverness.

We talked for the better part of 30 minutes about the procedure in general; what goes where, which utensil does what, paper or plastic. All in all a good talk. I thought everything was going smoothly until the doctor asked me to drop trou so he could make sure...and I quote..."all the parts are there."

I assured him that, while not necessarily impressive, everything was intact, but he wanted to check any way. Making some uneasy comment about not even buying me a drink first, I obliged.

...was it wrong of him to ask for my phone number afterwards?

Thursday, May 03, 2007

Red Bottom's and Red Hat's

Hello, all you non-existent readers out there! I’m back with my quarterly update, and man is it a doozy. Sit back a spell while I stoke this fire, pour the wine and wax nostalgic...or my legs.

As many of you know (okay, who are we kidding...no one’s reading this), Lynn and I had a baby girl in January. Well, Lynn actually HAD the baby; I just kinda stood around saying, "Hey, are you sure we should be bending her THIS far?!" See picture of referenced baby for cuteness.

Now for those of you considering a baby late in life, here’s a tip from your Uncle Dave: DON’T. I am now 38 years old and should be enjoying my twilight years. God knows, I deserve them. Until Samantha (that’s the aforementioned daughters’ name) came along, I had visions of Geritol, Depends undergarments and the occasional pinch of my waitress’s tush at the local Huddle House. I certainly had no plans to have another child. Let me tell you, 3:00 am feedings was not that big of a deal when you are 24, but at 38? They kinda suck.

But she is cute, huh?

Oh, just got back from a series of "conventions" in Nashville. We stayed at the beautiful Gaylord Opryland hotel which, if you decide you want to stay in a hotel that will eat up that second mortgage, I heartily recommend. We were there at the same time the Red Hat Society was having their International Convention. Over 5,000 women above the age of 50 in the hotel. Drunk. Without husbands. Do the math. The last time I felt that violated was during a TSA strip search. At least that time was suprisingly gentle in comparison.

I was officially adopted by the Queen of the Springfield, Illinois chapter affectionally know as the "Red Hot Momma's". Ms. Beverly, wherever you are, thank you for a lovely time with you and your ladies, tell "pinky" I said hello, and I honestly can't wait to start a career at your son-in-law's McDonald's.