Wednesday, June 27, 2007

Open Letter

Dear Grandma/Nanny/Caregiver:

Please wait until rush hour is over before you start your little day outing with your grandchild/charge. Clearly, you don't realize that the bus is already crowded with people, and we lose about four seats alone just to make room for your stroller/Volkswagon/small apartment. There's an announcement on the bus which asks those with strollers to fold them up on crowded buses. Apparently, you choose to ignore this rule.

We fellow passengers are doing the environmentally conscious thing and taking public transportation to work, and slowing us down while the bus has to lower itself because you don't possess the strength to lift a stroller the size of a Humvee is simply unfair. And really, if you can walk the several miles throughout the zoo/mall/park, couldn't you at least walk the one mile distance to it? Only going six stops hardly seems worth your trouble. Or mine.

Perhaps you could better use this time in the morning to teach your little companion some rules of behavior. Clearly this child has never been disciplined in its entire, short life. If my grandmother disciplined me using your method, I'd be a serial killer by now. A firm grab of the arm and telling the child to stop doing . . . well, everything it's doing . . . should suffice. There's no reasoning with a two year old. Believe me when I tell you I'm not sure who deserves a spanking more - the kid or you.

So give us all a break in the morning. The commute is tough enough for us. It doesn't need further complicating by you.

Thanks ever so.
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Tuesday, June 26, 2007

Rainbow Flag

We Mo's are a subliminal bunch. We have codes and secret meanings for just about everything. The hanky code alone was enough to drive us completely batty back in the day. One night out with friends, I made the mistake of wearing a red hanky in my back left pocket, only because I thought it was cute and went with my cowboy hat. Only when an older friend came up to me with a surprised look on his face and said, "You like to get fisted??" did I realize that you sometimes things are not always as they appear (I then quickly proceeded to throw the red hanky in the trash).

Given that this is Gay Pride Month, I think it's interesting to note that the ultimate symbol of gay, the rainbow flag, is utilized not just because its colourful and pretty, but because each striped colour represents something within the gay community:

Red: Life
Orange: Healing
Yellow:Sun
Green: Nature
Blue: Harmony
Purple: Spirit

What those six things have to do with being gay still kinda baffles me. Much like the hanky code. But it's something cool to know, I guess.

Happy Pride!
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Monday, June 25, 2007

Family Vacation

Yesterday I returned from Ocean City, MD where I spent several days with my parents, brothers and sister, and their families at a large condo on the beach.

On Wednesday, our first full day together (my parents, sister and one brother had been there since the 16th - another brother and I arrived on the 20th), the weather was not so cooperative. It rained. And it rained during the 115th Annual Maryland State Volunteer Firemen's Convention and it's 3.5-hour long parade. Three and a half hours of firetrucks. That's a long time to be looking at the same thing over and over. When we were kids, this was thrilling. And there still was a little excitement, I guess, but it didn't have the thrill it once did. Certainly in this case, length is not important.

The next day was beautiful, so Dad wanted all of us to go to Frontier Town, another place we used to go as kids. This time, the third generation would be the ones getting their faces painted by American Indians and being robbed on the train and witnessing a gunfight at the O.K. Corral. We arrived around 10AM and within about two hours, I started feeling horribly nauseous. Not sure if it was a flu bug or food poisoning, but somewhere between Billy Wilks Outlaw and the Can-Can Show, I was projectiling in the men's room. My brother Matt drove me back to the condo and I basically just sat for the rest of the day, completely drained of energy.

Friday arrived and I felt much better. The entire gang spent the day at the beach and in the ocean. Later, all the men (my dad, two brothers, me and three nephews) went to Hooters. I'd never been to one before - truthfully never thought I ever would. But it was fun nonetheless, and the waitress was very friendly. My nephews are really growing up fast.

Saturday was the drive back to my folks place. But on the way, I detoured to Bel Air, MD to see the boyhood home of my historical fascination, John Wilkes Booth. Dubbed Tudor Hall by his British father, Booth's home still sits back in a quiet wooded area, isolated from the world around it. There were no occupants so I took my time walking around and just feeling the history of the house. It was a place I've wanted to visit for a few years, and it took me a while to find it. But it was worth the efforts and the wait.

I returned to Chicago Monday morning. The BF is just one week and a bit over 500 miles into his 1,000-mile cycling journey to DC. Be sure to follow his progress.
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Tuesday, June 12, 2007

Men: Shop Alone!

So I was in The Gap the other night and noticed several guys being led around the store by women partners - wives, girlfriends, etc. And by "being led around" I mean being told what to buy. Women just do not understand how most straight men shop.

Men are hunters in the forests and the battlefields, not the discount bins. That's women's territory. We search and scour for food and survivors, not sweater sets. I couldn't help but overhear four conversations while walking through the store. Here are lines I picked up while eavesdropping (all spoken by women to their forlorn male counterparts):

Woman #1: Just try it on.

Woman #2: I love it - you're getting it.

Woman #3: But, it's what you want.

Woman #4: Just do it.

Not many women read my blog, but for those who do, let me tell you that most men shop just like The BF - rarely and quickly. They know what they want, go in to the store, see it, buy it, leave. There's not alot of trying on, checking out fits in the mirror, choosing colours, etc.

We save our hunting abilities for other things. And not all of them are respectable either.
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Wednesday, June 06, 2007

White Pants

There's a population out there who believe that no matter what top you wear with them, white pants are as dressy as you can get. And I am here to tell you that white pants are a product of Lucifer.

The only white I have worn below my waist in the last 39.5 years has been socks or underwear. I dislike white pants - be them jeans, slacks, trousers, etc. - on just about everyone. I seriously think nobody looks good in them. And said population seems to think that any shirt or blouse is acceptable to wear with them, regardless of colour and fabric.

Now, I am no fashion icon. My usual attire is cargo pants and a polo from Old Navy, so I am not preaching that which I do not know. What I DO know is that nobody should ever leave the house looking like the woman in the picture. Even if those pants were another colour, it would still look bad - the white just makes it worse. I'm not digging (ha, ha) on her for being "cheeky", but I am commenting that white pants show every speck of dirt, and as evidenced here, ever fold, crease, bump and pouch.

Just say NO!
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Monday, June 04, 2007

Open Letter: Flips Flops

Dear Flip-Flop Wearing Commuters:

Flip-flops and sandals might be comfortable to wear to and from work, but they have no place on a crowded bus or train during rush hour. I cannot always look down to see where I am stepping, so if I happen to land on your well-pedicured toes, it's not really my fault. I have to make it from the middle of the bus through an unforgiving group of commuters to an exit door that might only be 10 feet away, but may as well be 50 yards. And believe me when I tell you that if I really wanted to, I could take several of you with me.

But I am cautious, or at least try to be, as I navigate around the three shoulder bags you are carrying while you pretend to ignore me by wearing sunglasses and your little white iPod earbuds. I know you see and hear me. I'm practically unmissable.

So be a pal. Either wear shoes or get out of my way. Because one of us will be suffering otherwise - and I can promise you it will not be me.
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