Laugh Coach

I feel as though I'd greatly benefit from having a Laugh Coach.

It's like a life coach for social settings when I'm with a group of friends and conversation is going great and everyone is laughing and having a good time and then I go and say something completely off the wall and erroneous that brings out this chorus of comedy killing crickets and conversation quickly takes a resuscitation rerouting to a topic such as sports or weather.

On the flip side, believe or not, but not every thought I've ever had has made the mental migration from mind to mouth and sometimes I'll think "Nah, that's stupid." But then two seconds later someone else says it, everyone laughs hysterically like it's the first joke they've ever heard and tells them that the joke restored their faith in humanity and I'm left sitting there like a pouting preschooler who just got his toy truck stolen on the playground like "Hey, that was mine!"

I don't know, maybe I'll pay the judges from Last Comic Standing to follow me around and be like "Yes! Say that, quickly!" or "No! What are you, insane? Don't say that!" But now that I've typed this out, I've realized that I think the thing I'm describing is a conscience and the moral of the story is "Think before I speak."

Thanksgiving Tips

Mark Woonton’s Thanksgiving tip for the day: remember to sit at one of the ends of the table. This way you’re eating is less likely to be interrupted by someone asking you to pass something and thus your piggishness can be far more productive, you have an easier exit route to the bathroom and getting up to get seconds, thirds, fourths and fifths because you aren’t having to slither your way out from between two people like you’re trying to parallel park a Panzer tank and you aren’t getting caught in the crosshairs of a quadrillion conversations and can have the kind of intimate interactions that come with sitting at the end of the table. Plus, people sitting at the ends of a table are inherently viewed as more important individuals. Remember “please” “thank you” and whoever brings up politics first does the dishes. Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

The Classics

This morning I was flipping through the radio on my way to work and a crescendo of chords on the classical station managed to capture my attention. Before I knew it, Mozart guided me through a musical journey that had me absolutely lost in my car and not lost in my usual sense of automotive amnesia like “OH MY GOSH, THIS IS A ONE WAY STREET!” No, simply lost in the instrumental of emotion. I pulled into work feeling refined and sophisticated, while also thinking “I can never let anyone know about this.” Cuz how often do you pull up next to someone and hear them bumpin’ some Bach? Then I realized that my demeanor and dress probably leads people to a first impression that is something to the effect of “Here’s a guy who drained his emergency savings to follow the London Symphony Orchestra around Europe.” Luckily, I have the kind of ensemble of acquaintances in my life who may have thought that on a million occasions, but they have managed to play the most compassionate version of the Quiet Game of all time and I love you all dearly for that.

Pencil Wise

 On an annual basis, I walk into CVS and buy a quantity of pens and pencils that probably leads the person behind the counter at the store to believe that I am prepping to become Mark, the misbehaving medical student who is being forced to write "I will not tell patients that they have pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis because I think it is funny" 100 times.

The reality is that despite the infinite number of writing implements I seem to start the year off with, some get left in pockets and go through the washer, some get loaned out to Pencil Public Enemy No. 2 who has no intention of returning them and others simply get lost in the Ticonderoga Triangle and are never seen or heard from again.

By this time each year, I always seem to be miraculously minimized to one or two pens or pencils in my possession. I don't know where they go to on their pencil pilgrimage, but I hope they are happy and also, I will find them and I will write with them.

Identity Theft

I recently went through the traumatic experience of having my identity stolen. Not in the traditional sense like when someone steals a credit card and makes a bunch of fraudulent purchases. No, no, no. This was far more sinister. This person looked me right in my face, served me and then proceeded to make a false assumption about who they thought I was as a person without making any sort of information-gathering inquiries whatsoever!

Now, before I go any further, allow me to inform you that I, Mark Woonton, am about to complain about something that I probably have no business being upset about, like when a teenager complains about "the struggle" of having a cell phone on 1% battery life or not having anything good to eat in a fridge and pantry full of food.  

I recently had someone at Starbucks spell my name with a "c."

And I get that given the fact that there's only one way to "misspell" my name I should count my blessings and shut the heck up, but you and I both know that that's not going to happen.

When it comes to spelling Mark, can we all just admit that K is the right way? (a great slogan for this campaign).

Mark is a book in the Bible, Mark is how Mark Wahlberg spells it. My problem isn't so much with any Mark who happens  to spell their name using a letter that is a copycat and counterfeit as much as I take issue with all that "C" stands for. People need to remember that every kiss begins with "K." Whereas "C" is responsible for starting off the  relationship death sentence "Can we talk?" "C" is also the first letter of the word that someone will use as an excuse to end things in a relationship when you are clearly  not the problem, this ex-creating excuse being the busyness of their Career. 

The letter "c" leads us into the worst kind of words like crime, calculus and colonoscopy. Whereas "K" kicks off awesome things like Kraft macaroni and cheese, Karate Kid and Kayak.com, your one stop shop for travel pricing. 

The letter "c" isn't even sure how it wants to sound and if you don't believe me just check for crap on the ceiling.

And I know, I know, I KNOW the letter "K" can sneak up on us like a knight with a knife but more than anything it just bothers me that he didn't take a second to come down from his cloud of caffeinated craziness and ask me how to spell my name.

Again, I'm aware that I have no right to complain given the pronunciation Powerball of odds that some people go through with more unique names and spellings, but because this is such a rarity for me, the impact hit twice as hard. While I will never be able to fully understand the pain of inaccurate identification, i can know empathize with care, compassion, but most importantly of all, kindness. 

House vs Home

Growing up in my parents house, it got to the point where I could navigate my way on a trip to the bathroom with the speed and stealth of a navy seal on a night mission, without the use of any light. Unfortunately, because my place is still drowned in darkness, I have been forced to play the role of the powerless prodigal son and take refuge there once again. Remembering my abilities of old, I quickly and confidently cruised toward the crapper only to plow right into my father's proud paint job like some kind of Tom Clumsy character and then feel my way around the wall as if I were a point guard defending an inbound pass. The pain and paranoia of not being able to locate the lavatory brought on feelings that every parent eventually longs for their kid to have. While I know I will always be welcome in their home, this place was truly no longer my house.

Endangered Christmas List

"What would you like for Christmas?"

The only question that freaks me out more is "Will that be for here or to go?" because I'm always thinking "Well, I'd like to leave eventually."

The Christmas question separates the population into two distinct groups. The first has a neat little list of the items they want organized and alphabetized on an Excel spreadsheet with pictures, prices and articles from Consumer Reports to supply Santa with the peace of mind that he is getting this person exactly what they want for the holidays. Although coal is not a sought-after item from the guy whose got a beard that's long and white and does not spend his time fighting orcs or helping midgets sneak onto other peoples' property, now that I live on my own, coal could go a long way in heating the house. Unfortunately, the kind of stuff that lands you on the naughty list as a kid are things like not responding to your parents after they call you the first time and remembering to make your bed. As an adult, I'd venture to guess that in order to get on the naughty list you'd have to commit tax fraud or be involved with money laundering and in that case the only people showing up at your house in suits are lawyers.

The second group of people who inhabit the holiday season are the people who have no idea what they want because they are not a bunch of needy, materialistic penny-pinchers and are perfectly content with what they have, or maybe they just don't want to put the thought into it, who knows? I, myself fall into this latter group mainly because I don't play video games and the gifts I'd like now are classified more as "essentials" than exciting. I'm really only aware of my need for something when it's an absolute necessity and I run out of it.

The downside to my docile demeanor is that I am incredibly difficult to shop for because I answer the Christmas question the same way a younger brother responds to being asked why he set all of his sister's dolls on fire.......a shrug and an unenthusiastic "I don't know."

One Christmas, my dad had finally had it with my passivity and said "WHAT DO YOU WANT??!! A PET??!!"

Joking around, I said "Yes oh caring and accommodating father of mine, I'd like a pet rhino."

Without missing a beat he asked "male or female?"

I actually thought about it and figured that female rhinos are probably much neater and more organized than their raging and rampaging male counterparts so I said "Female."

Christmas came and went that year and I had been denied my singular desire. So I asked, "Why didn't I get the rhino?"

My dad said "I didn't know if you wanted a baby or a full-grown, adult rhino."

Again, I thought about for an unreasonable amount of time for a question that had more comedic value than anything else. I figured while baby rhinos probably poop more often, cleanup would be easier than cleaning up after a fully-grown rhino whose poops are probably my size, so I said "Baby. I'd like a female baby rhino."

This joke has gone on for years now and recently my dad had told that there was some department store selling a replica of a rhino. The store manager wanted some absurd amount of money for an item that was obviously never going to sell and while my dad had managed to talk him down several hundred dollars, he couldn't get the price down to something worth spending on what would ultimately be a gag gift. I feel saddened by the realization that my one demand of December will never be met, but the thought of a man standing in the middle of a Marshall's, haggling with a manger over the price of a 3'x5' replica of a rhino is nearly enough to alleviate the anxiety of elves everywhere and strike this from my Christmas list for good.

Cirque du Salami

Why is it that at any sort of function where they serve a dinner, the plates they give you are the size of a tea coaster? I always end up piling a bunch of crap on making my plate look like a diorama of Mt. McChicken and as I head back to my table, I have to balance the bountiful feast and turn myself into some sort of acrobat with an appetite from the Cirque du Salami.

Rubber Match

If I were to ever go missing, my parents would walk to the end of the driveway, put a hand on their forehead, stand on their tippy toes for a second and go "What a shame, he was a good kid."

When Tupperware is missing from the house posters are put up on telephone poles around town, the SWAT team gets called in, Detroit area gang connections are tapped into and lives are at stake.

Golden Oldies

I just learned that the women in my grandfather's apartment building absolutely love him and would you like to know why they're drooling in their dentures? It's because he has a full head of hair! At 26, that's really frustrating because women my age are looking for a guy with a PhD., abs and the DIY wherewithal to build a refrigerator out of cardboard, aluminum foil and an oscillating fan. It is comforting to know I can go to the senior center, flaunt my follicles and have any Edith, Eleanor or Edna I want.

Squad Goals

I’d like to tell you about one of the most emotionally confusing days in my life.
I played in a hockey league growing up and to that it was organized just meant that all of the kids got their gear on and found the ice, but what happened beyond that was controlled chaos.

One day, the team we were playing against didn’t have enough players show up, cuz who would’ve thought that kids wouldn’t want to wake up at 5 a.m on a Saturday? So my coach sends me over to play on the other team. The optimist in me would like to think that the rationale behind this decision was “oh, we better send them one of our best players” while the pessimistic side of me heard “You are the weakest link, goodbye!” (If you have a hurtful hypothesis about the choice, do like your mama said and keep it to yourself) My normal teams jerseys were blue and the other teams jerseys were red so they threw a yellow penny on me and called it a day. The other coach asked me my name, but he asked in that same tone of voice that you ask people if they want the last slice of pizza as you put your greasy paws all over it (I know, I know, you never ask that) Because of my penny the coach just called me “Yellow” the whole game. “Nice skating, Yellow! Way to go, Yellow!” I was offended for two reasons: 1. Mark is a one syllable name, it’s not that difficult and if you’re not going to use the information then why even ask. And 2. Although most kids my age think of “yellow” as 50% of the colors mentioned in a Wiz Khalifa song, thanks to Monty Python and the Holy Grail (a statement rarely ever used) I know that calling someone yellow is calling them cowardly so I felt as though he was shouting at me for being afraid of something in the 8th century, but at the same time I felt proud of myself for being so young and still having that knowledge. To compound the confusion, I scored two goals that game and scoring a goal against my usual team left me very uneasy. I was like “Do I celebrate or apologize?” My usual team ended up winning the game 6–3, so my additions to our adversaries accounted for 66% of our goals. I was heckled and hassled in the locker room and I was upset because “my team” had lost, but in one weeks time, order was restored and I got my team and my name back.

Love Train

Today I was thinking back on my trip to Europe and I'd like to share with you the scariest part of my experience. In order to go from Spain to Portugal we took a night train. I was nervous about this for several reasons: 1. If it's the title of a Guns n Roses song, it's probably a wild time given the fact that some of the bands other songs feature such horrifying themes as jungles, thorny roses and precipitation in November that isn't snow 2. This would be the only time in the trip I would be separated from the safety and security that came with traveling alongside my two sisters so I was not to happy about that. I got really judgmental really quickly as I started sizing up my roommates who were talking to each other in another language and I assumed were plotting to take my money and then take my life. At a glance, only one bald, burly Barcelonian with tattoos and a tank top made me nervous. While I'm never glad to see anyone injured, I was put at ease by the fact that this man had his leg in a cast and figured it'd be tough for him to do any klepto creeping with crutches. I had most of my things in a money belt under my shirt around my waist and there's no sleeping position that looks more natural and inconspicuous than sweating profusely and having your arms crossed in front of your groin. Luckily, I was in Europe so I planned on telling them I was having a dream that I was in a futbol match between Real Madrid and Barcelona so naturally there were a lot of fouls and free kicks. As I woke up from a rough night sleep on the Pick Pocket Express, through what I can only imagine was a miraculous midnight Muzzy sesh, Mr. Just For Manslaughter looks at me and and goes "You have a really weird sleeping stance." I was like "Can you not check me out while I'm sleeping?! Thanks!" Much to my amazement, I left the train with all of my items and later I found a note in my pocket that said "Call me xoxo, Carlos"

Word Play

Because you know I'm all about that bass, bout that bass, no salmon.

Did you have to go through that twice? I'll bet you did. It's tough to live in a world where unless we are there live in person we have to read something twice or have it read to us. How can we lead the next generation when the rules of grammar are not written in stone but in ever changing lead. Rules change with the wind causing people to wind their way through weird word choices. I was fine in preschool learning words like "that" and "the" but my grades dove into deep water once I tried to grasp the "ch" or "ph" and had me drowning in the laws of language sending out a dove in search of dry land. I can't tell you how many English assignments brought a tear to my eye or got me so frustrated I wanted to tear them up. My point being that the English language is confusing and maybe if we all spoke Polish we could polish up our sentence structure. For the record, I don't speak Polish and since I am an auditory learner I'd probably need someone to record themselves speaking Polish so I could pronounce everything correctly. The object of this was to allow people to appreciate the diversity of language and although some may object at having to waste so much time, I believe it is time well spent. I myself am not a perfect linguist and will most likely never perfect the art of articulation, but it is a worthwhile pursuit. The acquisition of knowledge allows us to resume our quest for the kind of accomplishments one would put on a resume. I'm just about ready to bow out of this whole communication thing so to wrap this all up with a pretty bow, I hope the content was enlightening and despite the lengthy read, you are content with what I've written.

Locked Up Abroad: Nerdy and Afraid

I've been called a lot of things in my day: Mark, Mahhhkkk, Marky Mark and The Funky Bunch, Mark Kent, Marcus Clarkus, Marcus Welby (M.D.) Wonton, Wooney Tune, Wootang and my personal favorite that I was given in college, Wuantanamo Bay. However, I'd like to tell you the nickname that brings great dishonor upon myself, my family and for reasons I don't care to get into right now, anyone whose last name ends in a vowel and that name is......criminal.

My story begins the way you would imagine any good crime thriller starts, it was spring break and I was on vacation with the other members of the infamous Woonton crime family. My brother, my dad and myself were returning to the home we had rented after engaging in the one activity that kills more people of Irish ancestry than any other, spending the day at the beach. I walked ahead of them, my memory is a little hazy as to why I did this, it's either because I'm really fast or I had to pee, you pick.

I opened the sliding door and walked into the darkness of the unlit kitchen/living room/bedroom, blinded by the vanilla milkshake induced vertigo, but I noticed two things in my hurried haze:
1. My dad and my brother remained outside the door, looking in at me
2. There was a pack of Marlboro cigarettes on the counter

Listen people, I chewed gum in school, I ran in the hallway, I even described some of the things we were taught in math class as "stupid", but I never smoked a cigarette, mainly because I ran Cross Country and Track and also because no one in my family smoked, people in my family included my brother and dad who stood howling with laughter on the other side of the glass of pain.

To this day, I have no idea whose home I walked into in the middle of the night in the middle of the Caribbean, but based on the little I know about them I can only assume that they are dead. If smoking doesn't kill you, then allowing some directionally challenged dingbat to wonder willy nilly into your home certainly will. So, the next time you see me creepily walking behind you, I'm not being weird, I just most likely have no idea where I'm supposed to be going. I'm just glad that no one woke up in time to call the cops and get me a guest appearance on the next episode of Locked Up Abroad: Nerdy and Afraid, and for that, I am thankful.

A Collection of Phobias and Their Definition

"Only thing we have to fear is fear itself."

Well, that and this list of the "Top 10 Phobias" and what they mean

1. Claustrophobia - The fear of seeing Santa Claus dressed as a storm trooper
2. Glossophobia - The fear of being asked to look at and edit a piece of work someone has written
3. Monophobia - The fear that when family game night comes around, someone picks Monopoly and everyone eventually dies of starvation
4. Aquaphobia - The fear of being at a party that has a DJ and living with the knowledge that someone could ask him to throw on "Barbie Girl" at any moment
5. Autophobia - The fear of the mechanic walking towards someone in the waiting area as he gets ready to tell them what's wrong with their car 
6. Globophobia - The fear of being beaten to death with a dodge-ball by by a fitness enthusiast who doesn't bleed his own blood
7. Androphobia - The fear that a cell phone on 1% battery life will die during the frantic quest for a charger
8. Philophobia -  The fear of being at a live concert filming of the Philadelphia Philharmonic and bumping into Phil Collins, Phil Wickham and Phillip Phillips and not having a pen and paper to get their autographs
9. Panophobia - The fear of a husband having to cancel his plans for the duration of this life and all of eternity because his wife said she wanted to stop into either a Panera Bread or Pandora Jewelry place "real quick."
10. Paraskevidekatriaphobia - The fear of not getting up the nerves to ask out that cute girl, Katrina, in time before Kevin invites her to go parasailing on the first date and have the whole thing videoed so they can watch it together on the second date. 

Here's a Tip For Ya

I don't want to sound judgmental, but when I walk into a pizza place you'll have to excuse me for being a little hesitant to put any change from the transaction in a tip jar labeled "Lucas's Kolij Phunt."

Nightmare on Sky View

September 7th was National Acorn Squash Day in the United States. I was unsure as to whether this meant I was to celebrate by eating acorn squash or spend the day squashing acorns. Now that this day has come and gone, the next big day on everyone's calendar is Halloween.
In recent years, some Halloween costumes have gone from be risky to raunchy all the way to repulsively bad in taste. With that in mind, I'd like to share with you the story of a custom-made Halloween costume that put me in a witch's cauldron-worth of hot water.
It was October of 2004 and I was excited because my friend and I had been allowed to go out on our own after agreeing to my parents' declaration of demands. Even more than that I was excited about the potential of profit from my costume. Being October of an election year I dressed in Uncle Sam garb complete with red, white and blue pants, shirt, hat and the beard I will never be able to grow in real life. Instead of a pillowcase, I had a giant box with two slots cut out and a picture of John Kerry and George W. Bush on either side with a divider down the middle on the inside of the box. People would put the candy in the side of whoever they wanted to see win, because the only thing that makes adults feel more comfortable about handing candy out to children they don't know is divulging their beliefs about democracy.

Despite the time I wasted "explaining" my costume, the impact of the up-side to this outfit was immediate as we approached front-yards plastered in political propaganda and I'd say "So you put the candy in the slot you'd like to see win and I'm going to count them up at the end." The person on the other end of the candy bowl would get all wide-eyed as if they thought an excessive amount of Almond Joys had an impact on the outcome of the election (Fun Fact: Almond Joys suck). After emptying out all of the contents he'd be like "Honey, grab the Tic Tacs and gum from my nightstand." Then turn to his kids who had come home early to get to bed "Kids, give the nice man your candy. What he is doing is more important to me than your happiness." Other people on their porch distributing future dental visits just hated the opponent so much they'd be shoveling Shock Tarts at me while muttering something about the foibles of their foes' foreign policy.

Everyone loved the idea and thought it was really out of the box and original. In short, I was absolutely cleaning up. We arrive at one house and an elderly person answers the door. You know, the type of senior citizen who is oftentimes associated new ideas, creativity and ultimately, good old-fashioned fun? I said "So, you put the candy in the slot you want to see win or if you're undecided, just put one in each!" (that is what people in the business world call being a salesman!) He furrows his eyebrows in ferocity, wags a finger at me and shouts "NO! NO POLITICAL STATEMENTS!" and slammed the door. I stood there, dumbfounded. I thought to myself "Excuse me, but I just watched you dole out candy to three Supermen, two Batmen and a Freddy Krueger, do you have any idea how much death, property damage and sleep deprivation those guys are responsible for? But MY costume offends you? OK. He glared at me through the column of windows next to the door and waited until I accepted my fate and did an Airheadsless about face.
So, listen here my Nerds Rope collecting nomads of the night. Go ahead and be crude with your costumes, be crass with your candy collection clothing, but don't you dare, don't you DARE be creative!

Fight or Flight

In honor of the Mayweather vs Mcgregor fight this past weekend, I'd like to share the story of the one fight in school that I was involved in. For the sake of anonymity and me not wanting to get my teeth kicked in, we will just call the other two people involved May and Mac.

It was 6th grade, a year like any other, I was acing all of my classes and looking good in my glasses. Everyone was at their lockers and May had his locker right next to mine and Mac comes over and starts yelling at him because he stole his  girlfriend or his Beyblades or something. I grabbed my books as quickly as I could because my next class was out in the giant microwave oven that the faculty referred to as the portables. Verbal jabs quickly turned to violence and thus began the Pelham Memorial School Punch-Off!

The force from one of Macs' punches sends May staggering backwards right into little old me and my books, my glasses and my sense of dignity go flying. You see, I had perfect attendance up to that point and I wasn't about to allow a couple of pubescent power punchers mess that up. I gathered my books, composed myself and although the odds of me now making it to class on time were slim to none, my fellow classmates encouraged me to beat Father Time and march on with their chanting of "Fight! Fight! Fight!"

Should I have been running in the halls? No, but that's just the kind of rebel that I am when the hall monitors have busied themselves with restraining a couple of Wanderlei Silva wannabes.

Two years of sprints on the track and going for runs that were longer and slower distance runs, which our coach felt completely okay with shortening by just telling us to "Go do LSD" allowed me to purposefully and punctually cross the classroom threshold just as the bell rang. Tales of my incredible feat (or feet) had already spread as I overheard two girls from the cheerleading squad saying "Did you see what happened in the hall?"

Hat Trick

Rules, much like a pop stars heart, are meant to be broken.

It may surprise you, but the only disciplinary action I had enforced on me when I was at school were the result of being late several times in a quarter or chewing gum. However, I'd like to share with you what I consider to be the most "gangsta" moment of my time at Pelham High.

Freshman year I had some major brain surgery which left my head looking like Darth Vader at the end of Return of the Jedi and because the stomachs of the student body were about as weak as their SAT scores, I was allowed to wear a hat so that I could look somewhat cooler and everyone else could keep their lunches down.

Unfortunately, the head hunting hall monitors were not made aware of my exemption from the "Lid Law" and ran up to me clearing their throat and touching their head like an asthmatic whack a mole. In response, I got to pull out this nifty little note from my neurosurgeon basically stating "Yo, the back of this kids head is ridiculous! It's best we keep it covered up, capisce"

What did they think? I had some Rice University educated rodent relative of Ratatouille under there feeding me the answers to my social studies test like "The Bay of Pigs invasion took place between April 17th through the 19th of 1961." I'm starting to think that the harsh treatment was mainly because I chose to wear a Detroit Red Wings cap in Bruins Country and for that I have been and will remain 100% unapologetic.

Clocker Docker

This morning at work I invented a new sport! What happens is you go to restock the packets of butter, then drop one and when you go to pick it up you accidentally kick with your foot another 20 yards away. You run up and reach down to grab it only to have your ID badge fall off and onto the floor and send that sailing a solid solar system away. This process of crashing to the ground and kicking continues for about 90 minutes plus the stoppage time of explaining to a confused coworker what it is you are trying to accomplish. 

The name I came up with for this series of unfortunate and unathletic events is Clocker Docker which is a mix of clumsy and soccer and ditzy and soccer with a minor spelling change to make it look better on paper (or on internet?) I am the creator, the founder, the best there ever has been and the best there ever will be. 

Hobo Holiday

Is anyone good/really into making those "Our Family's Year in Review" Christmas cards? Cuz I'm thinking about doing one for myself this year.

Since I live on my own I'm just going to talk about what's been going on with various appliances, gadgets and gizmos in my house.

I found out that putting my stovetop on the same setting that I did in my house growing up when cooking hamburgers is a really efficient way to make hockey pucks.

Or how I didn't change the settings on the toaster from "bagel" to "bread" when I was making a PB&J, so it turned into a bagel.

And lastly, how the amount of change my vacuum finds under the couch routinely gives this particular appliance a higher net worth than its owner.

If anyone is interested in participating in this project please let me know.

Fam, Just Kidding, I love you all dearly and do not wish to be ostracized.

Requiem For A Race

Music has a way of bringing back memories. Maybe it's a graduation song or the first dance at a wedding but music has the awesome ability to make us feel and remember.

I ran cross country and track from middle school until I graduated high school because in the response of fight or flight I knew where my best chances of survival were. Although United Airlines has kinda changed that slogan to more of a cause and effect thing now called Flight and Fight, but we aren't going to get into that.

I remember during the Fall of my senior year, it was the last big Cross Country meet of the season (for those of us not going to the Meet of Champions, because as it turned out, Senioritis can affect ones mastery and motivation in sports as well). There were a bunch of schools at this race and as seemingly hundreds of kids stood at the starting line, I half-expected a war paint wearing William Wallace to step in front of us and deliver some supercharged speech to motivate us. However, as warm-ups and track suits were shed in a massively displeasing scrawny person strip tease, no courageous commander stood out in front of us. Our motivation would have to come from massive speakers along the sidelines of the course that had been blaring Aerosmith, AC/DC and Ozzy Osbourne throughout the previous races.

We stood in shivering, short shorted silence and awaited the starting gun and the song that would send us off. Our ears were met by the sounds of the abrupt and awkward selection of "Build Me Up Buttercup" by The Foundations. Is this a phenomenal piece of music? Absolutely. Are you going to hear this song backing a monumental moment in a sports movie montage? Respectfully, I'd have to say no. I have, still do and will continue to belt the song out anytime I hear it, despite the objections of those around me, but the first thought that pops into my head will forevermore be standing at the Cross Country starting line, cold and confused.

An Anthology of Antiquated Expressions and the Millennial Response

Inventions and creations improve and advance ourselves and our society in many ways. This ever-evolving environment has given way to new modes of transportation, electronics capable of instantaneous information transfers and a immortalized internet image of Boromir from Lord of the Rings gesturing to everyone to tell them exactly how much money I have in my bank account. As the world has changed, there has been a variation and evisceration of the vernacular used in everyday conversation and communication. Here is a list of the top 10 Antiquated Expressions and the Millennial Response

1. Balance a Checkbook - In instance in which an individual extends their laptop or cell phone in midair, firmly grasped with both hands, praying to the gods of Google and Pokemon Go that they don't drop it
2. Dial Tone - The frightful phenomenon in which someone's voice on a cell phone sounds like Liam Neeson posing a threat
3. Ditto - Once used a term of being in agreement or understanding is now simply viewed as one of the most elusive creatures in Pokemon Go, outside of attempting to lure in one of the legendary Pokemon
4. Burn A CD - This expression is used to describe someone who finds an old CD they used to listen to and then realize that they have the whole collection of songs downloaded on their IPod. In order to appease their insatiable appetite for arson, they throw the now pointless pile of poly-carbonate plastic into a fire
5. 411 - This is a phone number people can call for what we will refer to as "First World Emergencies" like if someone's cell phone is about to run out of battery or if anyone didn't like the weeks' episode of "House of Cards" or "Orange is the New Black", they can call this number and have an operator on the other end ready to remedy the situation or just lend an ear to an outrageous alternate ending. This number was used because while these situations still need to be addressed, they are only about half as important as actual emergencies.
6. Pound Sign - When a friend or acquaintance horizontally extends a closed fist, initiating their intention to engage in a greeting known as a "fist bump" or "pound."
7.   Roll Up a Car Window - This is for when a group of mischievous Millennials choose to cover the car of a close friend or distant enemy in an even layer of toilet paper. An essential element of this undercover operation is too completely coat the windows of the vehicle in Cottonelle so that bath tissue barrier does not allow the victim of this automobile assault to see the dead bird or squirrel that has been laid to rest on the backseat.
8. Fax - Things universally accepted as truth. 
9. TV Guide - That person who hogs the clicker or remote or whatever everyone prefers to call and is a dictator of the direction digital entertainment, forcing family members and friends who are not in agreement on the selected show to watch what they want on one of the other three TVs in the house or on a high-tech handheld device. 
10. Billow - A soft, triple fiber, handcrafted, specially formulated, flexible, dual-use, organically grown pillow containing no GMOs, added sugars or artificial flavors, used at the work desk that has magical medicinal powers when it comes in contact with a bad back or bunions on the feet. Pick up a Billow today!  

Playgiarism 2 (The Original Idea)

Hi, I'm Mark Woonton and here is another Top 10 songs and people who definitely didn't write them

1. Speedy Gonzalez - Despacito
2. Gunnery Sergeant Hartman - Attention
3. Bubba Sparxxx the Caterpillar and Trixie Daddy - There's Nothing Holdin' Me
4. Quasimodo - Body Like a Back Road
5. King David feat. Lil Jonathan - Praying (Psalm 151)
6. Brandon LaFell - Slow Hands
7. Apostle Paul Wall - Believer
8. Richard Sherman - HUMBLE*
9. Neo - I'm the One (feat. Meta Morpheus, Trina Tee, Agent Aerosmith and The Organist)
10. "Krayzie Bone" Alex Jones - Wild Thoughts (feat. Ragin' Rush Limbaugh and Sean "No Hands" Hannity)

*On the iTunes music page, among the top ten songs, "HUMBLE" is the only title written in all caps. I'm all for an artist doing everything they can to get noticed, but if someone is going to put some pressure on the "shift" key for a song title with a single word, HUMBLE is not the best choice.    

Fearth of July

Would it surprise you to learn that I was a major American civil war buff back in the day? Probably not.

While I was in elementary school I took trips with my family to Gettysburg, Fredericksburg and Atlanta to see some of the historic sites that, to many people's surprise based on the names, are not masses of ice in Antarctica. I carried on intelligible conversation with terribly bewildered tour guides and even got some canister shells from a gift shop.

As a youngster, Fourth of July always terrified me, I loved the fried dough but I hated the loud BANG of the fireworks so my dad decided we would pretend it was cannon fire and I would name a civil war general with each blast, cuz nothing curbs a child's fear quite like pretending the loud noises they are hearing is a bunch of antiquated artillery fire.

So tonight if you hear someone shouting last names, come on over, give me a hug and strongly suggest that we move to higher ground

Pockets, Pockets, Pockets, Pockets

Would it surprise you to learn that I've never "lost" a pair of glasses only to discover that they were resting on my nose?

Well, I had sort of an automobile equivalent happen recently. After getting some work done on my car, the grimy handed grease monkey laid hands on my bohemoth of a baby and backed it out of the garage. I performed my post appointment pat down to make sure I had everything with me (It's also the motions to a fun song for those who aren't quite ready to take on the bodily responsibilities of "Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes" entitled "Pockets, Pockets, Pockets, Pockets") okay, there's my phone and my wallet. Where are my keys? Where the heck are my KEYS!" As the engine anxiously idled in the driveway

Check the Stats

Statistics involve numbers and information that I somehow find to be simultaneously incredibly interesting and tremendously boring. For example, if I were watching a football game between the Chicago Bears and Seattle Seahawks and Chicago goes into halftime up by a score of 7-6 and some blurb appears at the bottom of the screen that says "This is the first time in NFL history that two teams within the same conference that are named after animals have gone into halftime with a combined score that adds up to a prime number" part of me would think "Wow! That's fascinating!" While the less intellectually inclined side of me would be subconsciously screaming "Who the heck is digging this sort of information up?!"

This got me thinking on a more personal level. Although my competitive playing days in sports are well behind me since puberty seemed to hit all of the other guys in my school like a truck while heading at me with the ferocity of a tricycle with training wheels, I would be very interested to know if there were any stalkerish statistician who put to paper the final stats I compiled while participating in baseball, soccer and hockey in my younger years.

The first sport I remember playing as a youngster was baseball, or to be more specific, tee-ball. Chronologically, I was screwed from the start because by the time I signed up for tee-ball I had already experienced my first birthday party with a pinata. This set a precedent that if I was going to have to go through the effort of hitting something with a bat and run like a wild-man immediately afterwards, at least there would be candy involved. In the case of tee-ball, the only reward I got for reaching first base before the other teams' collection of kindergartners lack of communication and cooperation got the ball in that direction with the speed of a geriatric GPS, was being greeted by a five year old first baseman who looked and smelled like he had just pooped his pants in anticipation of absolutely anything happening in his general vicinity. On the defensive side of the ball, I was placed in the outfield and given the underdevelopment in the physical fitness of five year olds, I saw about as much action as was necessary to keep me conscious and in an upright position

"Is that ball coming over here? No? Oh, OK."  

I know that baseball is America's past time, but the only way you'll get a pasty, white child to stand around outside for a few hours with minimal movement is waiting in lines at an amusement park, because that way I am at least guaranteed some sense of excitement. Once the ball left the tee and I was being pitched to by opponents at my age level who still found it funny to call me "Four Eyes", I felt that it was time to call off the quest for Cooperstown and hang up the hat and gloves. Still, it would be interesting to know my batting average, on base percentage and number of RBIs, although I'm sure if I ever did find out these numbers I would be very dissapointed  

Next up in my efforts on the Spike TV series "Joes vs This Kid Blows" was soccer. My decision to play soccer was solely based on the economics principle of supply and demand. Soccer is the most popular sport in the world, therefore, they will be in need of the most players so that was my best bet as far as the probability of going pro was concerned. Unfortunately for me, as I would learn during the gym class draft for elementary school kickball, I fell on the wrong side of the line between demand and desperation. I may not have picked off any passes, but I picked so much grass I should've gotten a cut of the pay for grounds-keeping at Muldoon Park. Everyone else seemed to be able to kick the ball as if it were a spring-loaded from in a canon, but for whatever reason, when the ball got to me it magically transformed into a metal-plated medicine ball that traveled about as far as a stubborn child in a grocery store.

I started out playing goalie. This was a strategic move made by my first coach who was that dad who was determined that passing and kicking a ball were much more important life lessons to teach his son in lieu of unimportant aspects of life such as social skills, teamwork or even a pinch of politeness. I was placed in goalie so that, if we won, I had little or nothing to do with it. However, if we lost, the onus of the onslaught could be place on my seven year old inability to effectively cover the entirety of a net the size of a military aircraft hangar. I soon realized that an eight year olds shot has two settings, atrociously off-target and excruciatingly accurate because they were either kicking the ball no where near where they wanted it to go or right into the one understandably small area I didn't want it to go, that I would later learn had a relatively similar name. After enduring several years of the emotional and physical pain of losing faith in any future in FIFA or fatherhood, the coach decided I had graduated to play defense or Beater or whatever the heck it is called. I was the last obstacle between an opponent and a clean shot at the goalie and proved to be as much of an obstruction as a pylon or a person handing out water to runners in a marathon. Someone would get by me and I'd think "Wow! He's really good."

One particular year in elementary, my team featured a roster that would make up 2/3 of the names that ended up on the varsity football team that went undefeated for two years winning back to back state championships. We destroyed everyone and by "we" I played the role of that one kid in the group project for school who never did anything, but I watched as my team obliterated the opponents by double digit scores. We did everything we could to even the playing field, our team used less guys, I would say mean and hurtful things to my own teammates to try to get them off of their game (this did not go over well coming from a house where I was grounded for using forbidden four letter foul words such as "heck" and "dumb"). In an odd twist of events, I even scored two goals one game. I was so excited to actually have contributed to the clobbering that I hugged the guy who passed it to me. Teammates may shed blood, sweat and tears together, but they should never hug........EVER! I can tell you with relative certainty that the two goals I scored in that game were the only times that Telemudo  would've erupted as a result of something I had done, but there's just no way of knowing how many saves, assists, steals or hugs I provided over the years that helped lead my team to victory.

I have saved the sport in which I performed my best for last, hockey. That's right, I, Mark Woonton performed best in a sport that said "Let's take a physically and chemically imbalanced kid, slap a pair of razor-having high heels on his feet and place him on a sheet of ice." In contrast to my career on the pitch, I was disbanded from any defensive duties on the ice following the discovery that I could not (or maybe just would not) skate backwards very well. The trick I was always taught for skating backwards was to make a "c" with my skates. Given the lack of strength on my left side, that foot tended to just go along for the ride and slide back causing my skate marks to make a "Cl" in the ice, which, not for nothing, is the symbol for chlorine on the periodic table of elements. This may very well be the reason that my coach's eyes got all red and teary any time he saw me attempt to skate backwards.

As a Left Winger, I got to play in the offensive zone a lot and shoot the puck and I ended up scoring quite a few goals. My greatest asset was one that I inherited from my father. That is the fact that I am a "Morning Person" and my mental and vocal aptitude to annoy and perform are at their peak the moment my feet hit the floor as I get out of bed. This did not sit or skate well with the hibernating bunch of hormonal hockey players I took to the ice with at 6 a.m. on Saturday mornings.

There were two goals I scored that stick out in my mind. The first one I remember I was skating towards the goalie with the puck and gave my wrist the little "snap" that ensured the puck would see some airtime. While I openly admit the I had not planned on this next part, the puck headed right for the goalie's fully protected but somehow still fear-stricken face. Whether it be out of instinct or fear of injury, the goalie ducked his head and the puck met with the mesh directly behind him.

The story behind my second most memorable goal involves a beginning with a phrase that notably agitated comedian, George Carlin and  that I feel I reside a little to "up north" to start a story with. That is the phrase "My dad always told me." Nonetheless, among the many wise words I've heard from the man responsible for giving me life was "Play until the whistle." I can't tell you how many times on Sportscenter I've watched defenders in basketball and football seem to give up on chasing someone down.

Among my least favorite places to be on the ice rink was fighting for a loose puck in front of the other teams net. There's just a lot of swinging, slashing and suplexing going on that the ref can not see because of all of the commotion in the crease. On one particular play, the goalie had trapped a piece of the puck sticking out from under his pad so I blocked out all the noise and gnarly slashes to my knees, put my Athletic ADHD on hold and focused on hammering the puck home. I want to be clear, everything I did was completely legal. I was a hockey player, not Jason Vorhees and I understood the difference. I could still see the puck so, in the words of Happy Gilmore, I just tapped it in. His bags were packed all I did was send him home. Just gave him a little tappy. A tap tap tapperoo. The coach on the other team was furious and he shouted "Hey ref! Get that kid to stop digging on my goalie!"

He sounded pretty serious so I wanted to know the call and consensus on whether I would be skating over to my teammates to celebrate a goal or if I would be sent to the "sin bin" to think about what I had done. My gaze shifted from Old Yeller to the Zamboni Zebra just in time to see the official shoot the crotchety coach a look that said "Really? You want me to penalize him for what, excessive effort? Are you on crack?" I know refs are number two on the list of reasons why your team lost the big game, ranking slightly behind sheer, dumb luck and they are hated by the vast majority of the general public, but I have never wanted to high-five a ref so bad in my life and that is why that goal will forever be one of my favorites.

That just about wraps up my playing career, not counting all the time at summer camp I spent playing Ping Pong, Four Square and Knockout. Unfortunately, the stats for those and the sports mentioned above will forever be clouded in unathletic obscurity.  

Unlucky Charms

Luck: According to sore losers, It's the second leading cause of a heavily favored team losing a championship game right behind bad calls made by the officials. Or in other words, had these things not at all related to athletic awareness or physical performance gone our way, we definitely would've won. I'll tell you what, just score points and don't allow the other team to score and then you're guaranteed a win, mmmkay?

19th century poet and essayist, Ralph Waldo Emerson is quoted as saying "Shallow men believe in luck or in circumstance. Strong men believe in cause and effect." So ladies, if a man ever looks at you and says "I am the luckiest man alive"........RUN! The sad excuse of a homo sapien you have slouching before you is not worthy of your time with his false sense of flattery. So, by this logic, the most assuring thing a man can say to a young lady is "Man, I sure am glad that I decided to come over here and talk to you because it seems to have worked out quite well for the both of us" (We may want to give this one some time because I foresee it taking a while to get used to given the initial sense of arrogance it seems to imply). Here are a list of occurrences that are commonly believed to cause or foreshadow bad luck and their optimistic alternate meanings:  

Walking under a ladder is typically seen as bad luck. However, this actually means someone will experience a tremendous growth spurt within the next year.

Seeing a healthy black cat in one of the Carolinas means that Carolina Panthers quarterback, Cam Newton. will stay healthy for the entirety of the current or upcoming NFL season. This means he will be making smarter decisions when he scrambles and avoiding big hits and cheap shots.

Stepping on a crack may have given family chiropractors a scare in the past. Today, it just means that over the next year, someone will either experience healing in a severed relationship or take an exotic vacation to another continent.

Ending the life of a lady bug used to be seen as an atrocious act against insects and a milestone to misfortune. Contrarily, if a man kills a lady bug, it is a sign that in the near future, women will find his jokes much funnier and essentially be much less creeped out by his presence. In short, he will "kill it." When a woman kills a ladybug, it is a sign that the female coworker they haven't quite seen eye to eye with on things in the past will become more receptive and open-minded in the upcoming year.

At one time, Swallowing gum was viewed as a hazard to a persons' health and happiness. I am happy to report that the accidental ingestion of Orbit leads to seven years of a substantial rise in discernment and self-control with regards to when people should and should not say certain things. Almost as if something were causing their lips to stick together.

If breaking a mirror is bad luck, then my CR-V is on the highway to hell. Am I partly to blame for that? Yes. but let's not point fingers here. In some surreal circles, breaking a mirror foreshadows a year of tremendous leaps and bounds made it ones physical health that result in that person becoming almost unrecognizable to those closest to them.

Spilling salt may bring about some bad news in someone's life. My response is that if something may be the result of "first date jitters" at a restaurant, it's probably not a good idea to attach some satanic sentiment to it. If you should choose to believe it, this condiment conundrum may mean that the near future will bring the "offender" a clean bill of health from their doctor with regards to their cholesterol and also, if the culprit is an individual who tends to swear a lot, this occurrence is an indication that "salty" language will flee from their lips.  

Given the myth that the moon is made out of cheese and the fact that certain people believe that pointing at the moon is bad luck, it is my personal opinion that pointing at the moon will lead to one year of on-time pizza deliveries, 100% accuracy in the orders people place and even a few miscellaneous discounts.  

Opening an umbrella indoors is oftentimes seen as bad luck. Contrarily, thanks to foul-mouthed philosopher, Fat Joe, opening an umbrella indoors is a sign of financial prosperity to come on the home or establishment. An increase in money will "make it rain" on the persons with ownership of the building.

Failing to respond to a chain letter is believed to be bad luck. However, as you continue to read, you will be informed that not responding to a chain letter is actually a predictive precursor for someone to start their own successful business and thus not have to answer to anyone.

So there you go! For those of you who want positive news and don't believe random sightings or circumstances dictate what the future has in store for them, there are a few alternate meanings to bad omens. Those are your "unlucky charms."

House Half Full

The toughest part about living on my own is dividing responsibilities up between Me, Myself  and I because Me doesn't want to do anything, Myself is never around I just complains about everything. The best part, however, is bringing home leftovers after going out for dinner, putting the food in the fridge without having to write MINE MY OWN MY PRECIOUS in 1,000,000 point font all over the box, put a retina scanner on it, have a guard dog by the fridge and various highly trained snipers strategically scattered in trees in the backyard with a clear view of the kitchen.

Defending the Title

Music is an art of expression covering virtually every human emotion and experience from Pharrell Williams' "Happy" to Maroon 5's "Sad." From Simple Plan's "Shut Up" to Katy Perry's "Roar." Music can bring people together. whether it be for a giant concert or some idiot who thinks he can play that vacant piano out in public just because he knows half of "Heart and Soul." Possibly the most exciting way music brings people together is when two artists collaborate on a project together. These two may come from completely different backgrounds and tell two very different stories on how they got to this similar situation and yet, when they join together, they both understand the notes on the page and can create something together and possibly rule the galaxy together as father and son..........Sorry, I got a little carried away there. Sometimes artists will use their platform and skill set to bash other artists in what is known as a "diss track" (Except in Jamaica where "diss track" refers to a specific track someone has picked out among a group of them).

Being an art of expressing oneself, music has asked us a lot of tough questions like "Why Can't This Be Love" and "Who is Mike Jones?" but music has also sought to help us make sense of it all. In the spirit of collaboration, here are pairings of artists who have asked poignant questions and received prompt answers from their fellow musicians. As a precursor to this list, it should be noted that comedic expression has been chosen in favor of correct chronology. So, like some sort of a Capella omnipotence, some of these questions were answered before they were even asked:

The Heavy - "How You Like Me Now?"
Three Day Grace - "I Hate Everything About You"

Bonnie Tyler - "I Need A Hero"
Enrique Iglesias - "Hero"

T.I. - "What You Know?"
Pitbull - "I Know You Want Me"

Elton John - "Can You Feel The Love Tonight?"
The Weeknd - "Can't Feel My Face"

Haddaway - "What Is Love?"
Pat Benatar - "Love Is A Battlefield"  

Liz Phair - "Why Can't I?"
Fatboy Slim - "Because We Can"

Blink 182 - "What's My Age Again?"
Taylor Swift - "Fifteen"

The Who - "Who Are You?"
Black Sabbath - "Iron Man"

Hinder - "How Long?"
CCR - "Long As I Can See The Light"

Styx - "Show Me The Way"
Rihanna - "Shut Up And Drive"

U2 - "Where The Streets Have No Name"
Augustana - "Boston"

DMX - "Where The Hood At?"
Jermaine Dupri - "Welcome to Atlanta"

Journey - "Any Way You Want It"
Backstreet Boys - "I Want It That Way"

Baha Men - "Who Let The Dogs Out?"
Akon - "Sorry, Blame It On Me"

Flo Rida - "Who Dat Girl?"
Carl Carlton - "She's A Bad Mama Jama"

Jet - "Are You Gonna Be My Girl?"
Megan Trainor - "NO"

Mario - "How Do I Breathe?"
Faith Hill - "Breathe"

Black Eyed Peas - "Where Is The Love?"
Phil Collins - "You Can't Hurry Love"

Huey Lewis & The News - "Do You Believe In Love?"
Usher - "Yeah!"

Fort Minor - "Where'd You Go?"
The Beach Boys - "I Went To Sleep"

Van Halen - "Why Can't This Be Love?"
The Beatles - "Let It Be"

Willie Nelson - "Do You Mind Too Much If I Don't Understand?"
Bowling For Soup - "No Hablo Ingles"

Scales of Justice

I remember the first time I ever burned myself on the stove. I was only just tall enough to lay eyes on the brightly colored burners. We had some family friends over to the house and after dinner was over we made caramel apples. I remember being absolutely transfixed by the spiraling scorchers, they looked beautiful and the smells from the oven that night had played a promising precursor to a mouthwatering meal. I had to know if this alluring illumination felt as good as it looked. It did not. Like a moth drawn to a flame, my toddler self was mesmerized only to be mutilated. I wailed and cried and took away all of the attention and genuinely ruined everyone's evening, but you know what I never did again? I never laid my phalanges on the fantastically lit and ferociously fiery stove top. I had learned a valuable lesson. That is also why apples terrify me to this day.

I was in the grocery store and I saw this woman carting along while looking down at her phone, probably checking in on what's going on at the house while she's not there to keep order or possibly receiving a 3rd request from her children for some cereal with massive amounts of this white powder dumped on top of it which causes her children to run around the house like wild animals. leading me to believe it's not just sugar in there.

Anyway, she's looking down at her phone and doesn't see that she is approaching one of those baskets used for weighing fruits and veggies and crap. For an instant I thought "Oh no! Look out!" but unfortunately, this conflicted with my general sense of evil inquisitiveness which thought "Huh? I've never seen what happens when someone plows into one of those baskets before."

I'll tell you what happens. She looked up with this absolutely terrified expression on her face and then once she realized she hadn't run into a human being with feelings and objections she just batted the thing away like she was playing Tetherball.

I was happy that I got to be there for a moment of personal growth in this woman's life, because just as Ra's al Ghul taught billionaire Bruce Wayne in Batman Begins, I'll bet that woman will be more mindful of her surroundings from this point forward. I also had my own personal epiphany, Fruits and vegetables are dangerous people! My box of Pop Tarts has the weight written right on it and I knew exactly how much soda was in the two liter bottle of Diet Coke I bought. Stay safe and stick to purchasing these things.  

Mrs. Officer

I've heard it said that 90% of communication is nonverbal (although maybe I saw it in writing because for someone to say that would be kinda backwards). So with that in mind, I'd like to think that my kindergarten characteristics for courting a cootie-infested young lady were quite reasonable. It was something like "Maybe if I awkwardly glare at her from across the cafeteria and never EVER speak to her she will get the message."
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I have since learned that women are not half-bad and can be quite enjoyable to talk to. However, this freezing fear and perplexing paranoia had to manifest itself somewhere and sadly, it seems to me that whenever I spot a cop parked on the side of the road my mind goes "OK, are you sitting up so straight that you're about to flip over the top of the seat? Good! Are your knuckles practically transparent from gripping the steering wheel? Excellent! Now, make awkward eye contact that says "I'm a law-abiding citizen doing absolutely nothing wrong and I figured I'd best communicate that by looking at you instead of watching where I'm going."

Sober Games

Drinking games are interesting, it's like someone said "Let's invent a game that gets more and more difficult the longer you play it. Winning a drinking game is kind of like winning an eating contest because people are equal parts impressed while also thinking "This person has a problem." Do you like games, but hate drinking? Here are the top 10 drinking games guaranteed to keep your blood alcohol level at the same percent of the chance you have at scoring a date with Taylor Swift.

Every time you go to have a movie night with your family and everyone unanimously agrees on the first suggestion that is thrown out there

Every time an NFL analyst mentions the words "Playoffs" and "New York Jets" in the same sentence while also keeping an optimistic tone of voice

Every time you are having a political or social issues discussion  and someone says either "You know? I'm not 100 percent knowledgeable on the topic, so let me do some research and get back to you before I just start flapping off at the mouth" or "That's a good point. I've never looked at it that way before."

Watch a nationally televised spelling bee and every time they give a contestant a word and you think to yourself "I'm going to try to work that word into my daily conversations with people."

Watch an episode of "UFC Unleashed" and every time Mike Goldberg blinks, do a shot.

Watch an episode of "The Big Bang Theory" and every time you laugh, do a shot.

Listen to a country music radio station and every time a song DOES NOT mention a spouse or loved one leaving them, a dog dying or drinking a beer.......drink a beer

Listen to a rap music radio station and every time a song has no mention of alcohol consumption, violence and enunciates the "g" on a word with the suffix -ing, do a shot.

Watch an NHL game being called by Mike "Doc" Emerick and every time he gets through a play without wayyy overreacting to a shot that wasn't even that close or a hit that wasn't even that bad or using the word "swaggers", drink a Molson.

Watch a basketball game and do a shot every time the players get to a whistle without everyone's shoes sounding like an old car not braking in time to avoid crushing a bunch of baby birds

Five Dolla Guy

The key to doing something nice for someone is not then going and bragging about it, so I apologize in advance.

Yesterday I walked into Dunkin Donuts and some of the employees were counting up money in the tip jar and one of them said "tips were terrible today, this is like 5 dollars short of our usual." 

So I gave them a $5 and said "you guys do a great job."

I go in today and the girl behind the counter goes "Hey! It's 5 dollar guy!"

Can we all agree 5 Dollar Guy would be the name of the least successful rapper of all time?

Be on the lookout for my first two singles to drop "Riding Down the Street in my CR-V" and "I Grew Up in a Nice Home with Parents Who Loved and Supported Me"

I'm on my way people!

Market Basket Case Study

I'd like to tell you two stories that are very similar and yet worlds apart. One is a tale of triumph, the other a tale of painful self-awareness. While the series of events are comparable in chronology, they left me, and will likely leave the reader feeling very different.

Up first we have the story of a handsome young man and his steadily aging father. I was a junior in high school, it was a bright, sunny day just like any other Spring day in New England when it's not dumping the kind of rain that makes you consider building a boat, collecting animals and getting your crap together from a moral righteousness standpoint. My dad and I were in the grocery store, because you know, when you provide the food on the table and put a roof over someone's head you can drag them along on errands if you damn well please. We got every item on the Mama Bears' Old Testament length grocery list and both shut off our cell phones to provide us with an alibi for not responding to food item afterthought phone calls that would prolong our stay in this place.

We get to the cashier and my dad has me lift a case of water because of his back or whatever. Now, let me just pause here for a moment in order to explain something. In recent years, the furthest distance I have ran is the vast expanse between the King' couch and his porcelain throne. However, back in the day, I ran Cross Country and Track under the tutelage of a coach who stressed the importance of "lean muscle." Lean muscle is sought after in the same way a man is attractive who "does OK for himself." This is an oddly specific muscle mass that was typically enough to give me a sense of anabolic arrogance, but not enough to garner the gaze of a girl. This particular event with the checkout aisle chick took place halfway through my track season and my cardiovascular health, legs and arms were in mid-season form and I was feeling pretty good about myself and that attitude was reflected in my attire. I had chosen to wear a tank top on that day. If I decided to present myself in public in that manner now, the reaction would be the same as if I were wearing a fanny back. Mainly, "Wow, there's something you don't see every day." The girl in the checkout aisle was clearly doing her job as her eyes burned a lust-filled laceration through my luscious limbs as I lifted the water. My dad paid her and then we walked out to the parking lot and he said "You know she was checking you out, right?

Without looking at him, I nonchalantly said "Yeah." and we went home. All and all, I pretty much handled the entire situation like a total boss.

Fast forward to the present-day. I do love living on my own, but my financial situation and caffeine cravings have caused me to be a bit more frugal with my spending on food. I roll up to some cranky. old cashier with my creaking cart full of milk, bread, beer and microwave dinners and had this judgmental Judy look at the contents of the cart, then look at me with eyes that made audible her thoughts of "Oh honey, don't worry. She's out there somewhere."

Where has the time gone? Are my Golden Ages at the grocery store over? Sadly, that very well may be the case.

Eye Rights Goodly

Is there anything more annoying than unknowingly bumping into an undercover agent for the Pronunciation Police or the verbal violence that comes as a result of attempting to converse with a Grammar gang member?

If I mean to say the word "go" and I accidentally pronounce it "stop" then I wouldn't mind if someone interjected and said "Whoa! Mark, be careful. You're off by 180 degrees on that one." Otherwise, the only thing this person is doing is interrupting while I'm talking and correcting me, all the while knowing full-well what it was that I am trying to communicate. Last time I checked, mispronunciation is not a sin. You know what is a sin, though? Pride. So, unless someone has a teaching certification that says "I'll Tell You What To Say And How To Say It" why don't we go ahead and leave that speck of sawdust in my eye right where it is, okay?

Some people might be thinking "But Mark, grammar is one of my pet peeves." Yeah? Well, I hate the New York Jets fan base, but if someone starts a sentence with the phrase "So, I was watching my absolute favorite team, the New York Jets....." I'm not going to be like "Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Conversation over!" Mainly, because I know that come January they won't have very much to say to me, so I just exercise a little patience and wait it out. My point here being, personal pet peeves do not have the power to circumnavigate politeness and manners.

I do feel the need to further defend my position. Below is a list of "mispronounced" words and their meaning so that the next time someone decides to play the role of Audible Autocorrecter in your life, you can shut them down and say "Actually, I meant it like this so you can place your behind in a rear-end receptacle and discontinue the vibration of your vocal cords!"

Ideer - This is an app that helps people to locate the deer closest to them. What happens as a result of this information is strictly up to the individual.

OarGone - This is the sailors' equivalent to the "Find My Phone" app. Whether it be a result of poor visibility or an over-consumption of alcohol, this app helps people locate a misplaced oar on a boat.

Ill-A-Noise - This is a prank baby monitor that has a barfing sound effect timed to go off every hour on the hour. It is a pointless, cruel invention which I can liken only to the deceptive naming of the vegetable filled chicken pot pie.

BobWire - An online illegal music downloading site where people can download songs by Bob Marley, Bob Dylan and Bob Seger, free of charge.

Excape - Much like the invisibility cloak in the Harry Potter series, this is an invisibility jacket that has the power to make the person wearing it completely invisible to their ex if they should happen to see them while out and about and they want to avoid those several minutes of awkward, obligatory small talk.

Fedrill - This is a tool and a torture device used by the government on people who have not filed their taxes on time. It's a great drill. Definitely the best drill. Craftsman makes fake tools.

Upmost - Tallest. Used to indicate great height.

Volumptuous - Loud. Full of volume.

Cannidate - This is when two people are on a blind date and they both simultaneously realize that, while the other person is in all likelihood a decent human being, they are most definitely not what each other are searching for in a spouse. They decide to put a lid on it early, save each other an awkward phone call with friends and family and dine and dash.

Doggy Dog World - This is the name of a doggy daycare that is owned and run by rapper, Snoop Dogg. There are a lot of questions surrounding this place, like "Is Snoop Dogg qualified to run an animal care facility?" Is it necessary for the dogs to be wearing chains so large that their heads are constantly dragging on the floor? Lastly, what is in the doggy treats that causes the dogs to go into crazy fits of laughter and then just lay there and do absolutely nothing? For the answers to this question and more, I guess we will just have to "chill til the next episode."        

Family Matters

I've never understood the allure of those shows like 19 Kids and Counting.

My dad has five brothers, so I have a lot of cousins. Whenever we are all together, it's total chaos! Like jamming people into a telephone booth (which is a booth sized area with a telephone in it as an FYI) Other than the fact that the conversation and conduct of most of my uncles would land them in prison if it were ever broadcast on live television, I've never been hanging out with everyone and thought "You know what this jam-packed house could use? More people, expensive recording equipment and cameras."

But on the other hand, videotaping my life wouldn't be that interesting either.

"For Dinner tonight is Mark going to go with a HungryMan dinner or a Celeste pizza? Is the milk in the fridge from this month? Stay tuned to find out in this weeks' episode of "That Other Bachelor, Though"

Delusions of Grandeur

"The college years are the best years of your life."

Depending on who you ask, this is either a common expression or the least funny anti-joke of all-time.

In just a few short months, I will be turning 25 years old. Maybe it's the prospect of finally being able to rent a car or maybe I am going through what, according to the average lifespan of my undying ancestors, would amount to a "quarter life crisis", I can not help but take some time and reflect on my past for a moment. According to the expression above, my best is behind me and all I have in store for me now is the steady loss of senses, everyday household items and an increased percentage of my paychecks. At this age, gifts become more practical than exciting and I receive a cake that, with each passing year, becomes a greater fire hazard to my home.

As a chapter closes, I believe that it's natural to think about things I wish I had done differently. For example, I wish that my infant agent had talked me out of doing that Preemie Playboy shoot that permanently put semi-nude photos of myself out into the universe. I wish I could somewhat confidently spit the hot fire that is the lyrics to "Lose Yourself" by Eminem without sounding like someone who's trying to angrily recite the dictionary while running on a treadmill, but given my age and current level of cardiovascular health, these will remain regrets.  

It's certainly not all bad though, I was and am very fortunate growing up. I got to go on a lot of nice vacations all over the world, experience new hobbies and have a rum and coke at a diner in Madrid, realizing a little later than I would've hoped that, despite our language barrier, the waiter was pouring a "tell me when" portion with the rum.

If, in fact, my physical and intellectual apex is behind me, I'd like to share with you what I consider to be my two crowning achievements


Accomplishment #1. I Ran a Half Marathon in 2008
From 5th grade up until I graduated high school, I spent the Fall running cross country and the Spring running track. The physical benefits of participating in these activities was far outweighed by the social and psychological schism my sporting choice had created. The thought process behind the Men's cross country uniform seemed to be "Let's take a fragile, paper-thin little high school boy and put him in a sleeveless shirt and booty shorts."  The terminology associated with the sport didn't help either. Football and basketball players had games, that's exciting! It's game time! Cross country and track gatherings are referred to as "meets" as if we are all getting together to hang out.

"Hey man, what's up? Good luck out there. Watch out for the roots in the woods on Mile 2."

"Thanks. I appreciate that. Hey, what's that guy yelling at us about over there with the pistol?"

"I don't know. Let's get out of here."

You are just never going to here monumental sports movie monologue when all that a coach really needs to say is "Everybody run fast, okay?" In all fairness, runners did try to make it cool, Basketball had those And1 shirts that said "Not in My House" and Cross Country countered with a T-Shirt that said "My Sport is Your Sports Punishment"  because that sounds a lot better than "My Sport Is That Thing You Instinctively Do When The Linebacker From The Football Team Finds Out That The Answers You Gave Him For His Geometry Test Got Him A D+."

At the end of the cross country season my sophomore year of high school, my dad and I ran the Detroit Half Marathon. We had trained for months and overall, I was very pleased with how I did. Although, I don't think any training or motivation is required to place someone in the middle of downtown Detroit and tell them to move as quickly as possible. The sad part about this whole thing is that I trained for months and months in order to be able to run a half marathon. To me, it sounds much more impressive to say "I ran a 13 mile race." People run full marathons. You'll never hear someone brag about climbing halfway up a mountain. Even in the Dixie Chicks song, "Landslide", they climb the entire way up before taking natures' earth-quaking elevator down. A few days ago, I ran on the treadmill for the first time in years. Remembering quite clearly the physical feats I was once capable of, I assured myself that I had definitely not lost my mini marathon mojo and cranked the treadmill up to that speed that made the old lady on the elliptical next to me stare. I finished five miles. I had neither the aspirations nor the ability to get out of bed the next morning, but I had run five miles. My point here being that, if that half marathon was the peak of my running performance and 13 miles is my limit of the furthest I will ever go, I would be best served to keep it to myself treat it like the North Shore Mathletes final answer to take home the championship, as though the limit did not exist.  

Accomplishment #2: I am an Olympic Gold Medalist

Prior to arriving on a college campus, incoming freshman are usually sent a list of things that they will need along with a list of items that are and are not acceptable in the dorm or around campus. This list typically includes everything from clothes hangers to binders, an alarm clock to Ramen noodles. I would not find out until I arrived on campus that there was another item required of all incoming freshman. That being an expert level of understanding and application of knowledge as it pertained to playing Halo 4. I had never really played these games before, but I thought I'd participate purely for the social aspect of electronic engagement. Waiting to try out Halo for the first time in college, on the games' fourth installment was kind of like someone deciding they want to start working out again at the NFL Combine. At this point, it seemed as though everyone that I played against knew every nook and cranny of every map and could kill me with a head shot through a two centimeter hole four buildings over. Or the video game glitch that allowed you to shoot someone through the wall on the Longbow level provided it was between 1 and 3 p.m. on a day starting with "T" and the game was being played on a Samsung television that was facing east. I am no quitter, but after a few agonizing attempts, my response to Halo invites became the same as my response to the invitation to play football with my church members on Thanksgiving, "I will just watch, thanks."

Not that I didn't play video games. Oh, I played video games. I was much more partial to sports video games, particularly, hockey video games. I bought NHL Blades of Steel '99 for the Nintendo 64 and continued to purchase the the latest and greatest in holographic hockey games up until NHL 13 for Xbox. I now realize that this is the greatest financial faux pas of all-time, annually purchasing a similar game, with a similar objective just because the players' toothless mouths and black-eyes are a little less pixelated.

I accomplished everything there was to do in these games. I created a player and brought him from the fourth line of an AHL team with a nagging girlfriend telling him he's never going to make it to the starting Left Wing on a Stanley Cup championship winning squad and an entourage of ice hunnies. I made trades and brought a tailor-made team from the preseason to the top of the postseason totem pole. Without a doubt, my greatest on-ice accomplishment was when I entered into the "Olympic" mode where I got to pick a country and compete for the glory of the gold.

With the computer set to All-Star mode, which allows the opposition to be injected with electronic adrenaline and special software steroids, I dismantled the likes of Canada, Russia, Sweden, Finland and in an unfortunate Gold Medal match-up, the United States. Do you know what country I did all of this with?............Nope, it was Japan. I wanted to challenge myself and as uplifting and unlikely as the story of the Jamaican bobsled team was in "Cool Runnings." The story of how I brought together a bunch of ice inept underdogs onto the podium is hardly deserving of the title "Memoirs of a Gretzky." While I am grateful that my Honda CR-V handles fantastically on the New England ice. I can promise you that based on what I saw in these imaginary Olympics, the guy who made it definitely does not. I missed a lot of wide-open shots and struck air most of the time I went to check someone, but my thumbs had a decade of sports dynasty building under their belt and I was not to be denied. You may think of Japan as that place that made your cell phone or your car, but I think of them as the 2006 Turin Technological Electronic Olympics Gold Medalists.        

What's the Meaning of This?!

Beyond a certain age, adults and technology seem to go together about as well as myself and a stick shift. I can try to grasp the concept if you like, but someone, at some point, will probably die. It was evident which side of the tech savvy timeline my dad fell into when he referred to fad of fantasy creatures from my early childhood as Pokemen or the hot, new turn of the century CD he bought my brother and I as being by the "Main Street Boys." Growing up, along with serving as a money leech and constant questioner of everything, the arrival of the DVD player ushered in another familial role. I became my parents personal technician for their weekly small group, charged with the dastardly duty of putting the demonic disc into the digitized box of witchcraft and making the whole thing "go." I was then banished to the basement so that they could have intelligence exchanges about adult stuff. Technology has continued to move forward at a feverish pace. This occurred to me when I realized that in a statement above, I referenced buying a CD, something no one has probably done in quite some time.

One of the great milestones as a Millennial was the day I got my first cell phone. I was a freshman in high school and one day, as my dad and I were driving in the car, he reached into his pocket and handed me my first slice of flip phone freedom and said "Here." It was so uneventful and yet so momentous, because up until that point I thought cell phones were only needed by special agents or important businessman, but now I had one of my own. Thus began a new era in my existence, I would never have to look up again.

In one of his talks, linguist and professor at Columbia University, John McWhorter, lays out a case refuting the common argument that texting is killing the English language and may in fact have far greater benefits than many people realize. He states that those who are able to separate "texting" English and written English are, in some ways, bilingual.  John references texts from early American and ancient history from academics of the day who believe that language constructs are completely lost on the youth of the time, bringing to light the reminder that grumbling grownups far out-date any Apple products.

I'm not here to explain away the perceived deterioration of modern dialogue, are people today far too "plugged in?" Probably. However, this is simply a modern mode of communication. I wonder if anyone forty years ago ever got bashed by their parents for spending far too much time in their room writing letters. My goal here is to reach across the generational gap so we can communicate from a place of commonality. I'd like to share with you some common texting acronyms and what they mean so we can better understand and interact with each other.

LOL - Lost Old Lady (to be texted out to others when grandma can not be located in the grocery store or in any other setting where she may tend to wander off.)
BRB - Bed Rest Break (This is an indication from one person to another that the sender is tired and in need of sleep. The communication with the recipient is over for the time being.)
TTYL - Take Two of Your Lyrica (This is another indication that conversation is over because one party is spending far too long complaining about their Fibromyalgia and they are no longer a pleasure to converse with. They just need to take their meds and chill out for a bit.)
LMAO - Learn More About One Direction (This is a personal reminder to try to learn something about current pop culture so people can have conversations with the preteens in their life.)
LMFAO - Left My Fone At Office (This is to be used in an instance to explain a prolonged period of unresponsiveness to a text. In this case, the recipient was not reachable by phone because they had left it at the office. Spelling phone with an "F" simply eliminates the need to text out so many pesky letters. Both words look like they are pronounced the same so, why not?)
ROTFLOL - Reach Out To Finance Lawyers On Loans (The purpose behind this one has a bunch of money related mumbo jumbo that I, myself, don't have the capacity to understand just yet. It has to do with finances and needing the help of a professional. That's all I got for ya on that one.)
OMG - Obliterate My Grandchildren (They're a bundle of joy, aren't they? Most of the time yes, but it gets to a point where the constant noise and rapid movement is just too much and they break into a story about what they did to punish mommy or daddy back in the day and the passage of time has only allowed them to further hone these sinister skills.)
IDK - I'll let the Doctor Know - (This is when someone identifies a new and emerging ache, pain or bruise that they were not previously aware of. They make a mental note to themselves to bring it up at their next doctor visit.)

the final two have similar letters and meanings, they are to be used when the grandkids simply need to be whipped into shape and put to work the acronyms are WTF and FTW which respectively stand for Wash The Floors and Fix The Washer, because washing the floors hurts granddaddy's back and trying to figure out that darn washing machine hurts his head so he shouldn't have to it. His house, his rules!

Happy Texting!      

Cognitive Derailing

“I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

It’s the statement that you never want to hear from your parents, a private eye detective or a Jehovah’s Witness.

Sadly, this is exactly how the cognitive testing I underwent began. Cognitive testing involves a series of exercises used to examine ones thought process and their ability to acquire knowledge and understanding. If you are still unsure as to what cognitive testing is at this point, all that means is that, like myself, you have definitely had some form of it done in the past.

The awkwardness of this medical moment begins in the waiting room when they hand you that "Tell Us a Little Bit About Your Medical History" sheet. It's just me and five other people out there scribbling away as if we are signing up for some kind of medical Match.com. That's the biggest mystery to me. what is everyone else in here for? I could never just outright ask someone because that'd be rude, you know? "So, what's wrong with you?" However, it gets to a certain point, mostly when the guy sitting next to me need to use the backside of their sheet to continue to explain their medical misfortune and I'm thinking "Ummm, can I finish my questionnaire in the hallway?" I could always tell when people got to questions about having back problems, because I'd suddenly see them straighten up like a meerkat for no reason at all. "Wait for it.....wait for it.....there it is!" I've never seen such immediate response to a possible problem quite like that. If we were all honest with ourselves, we would openly admit that the only time we care about our posture is when someone mentions posture.

The testing itself covers a wide range of areas including verbal fluency where I am asked questions such as "Mark, what is the opposite of populated?"

"Ummm, my sixteenth birthday party."

"Mark, tell me a word most similar to argumentative."

"I DON'T WANNA!"

"What is another word for perplex?"

".......for what??

I next had to listen to her tell me a story and then retell the same story back to her word for word. This test presented two major issues for me. Firstly, the pace and volume she used to tell the tale suggested to me that she already had her mind made up about what the results of this test were going to tell her about my level of intellect. She goes "JOHNNY WOKE UP FOR SCHOOL AT 6 A.M. JOHNNY COULD NOT FIND HIS COAT!" Geez lady, was this his favorite coat or are there an orchestra of jackhammers at a construction site outside that my ears aren't picking up?" The story continued with pacing issues and a lack of action that couldn't keep the attention of the most intellectually inclined individuals. It was, in many ways, the Star Wars: Phantom Meance of mental testing. After a minute or so of listening to Johnny's minuscule misadventures of not being able to find his jacket, nearly missing the bus and then racing into school only to realize he had left his homework on the dining room table, I'm sitting there thinking "Someone better get stabbed, cheated on or Darth gosh darn Maul better show up really flippin' quick. We've all been forced to sit through elongated and uneventful stories, but to have this done to me by a medical professional just seemed cruel.

The critiquing went both ways though, because a part of the exam that I did not perform to their liking on was when the doctor said "OK Mark, I want you to name as many animals as you can in thirty seconds, go! So off I went "Arthur, Aslan, Batista, Bugs, Dory, Alvin, Theodore, Simon." Apparently, the "M.D." on this woman's lab coat stood for "Majorly Dispassionate" because she managed to look right passed the creative genius of what I was doing and dryly said "Name real animals please." Although years have gone by since this exam, I'd like you to realize that my answers objectively took a higher level of thinking and also, this story will probably be the only time you see the names Batista and Dory mentioned in the same sentence, unless the two of them go through this same cerebral functionality testing at some point.

I moved on from the viciousness of the verbal to be vehemently blindsided by a visual test of my spatial reasoning skills. This involves manipulating shapes in space to make them fit appropriately. Unlike the approach used by many between a stubborn outlet and a cell phone charger cord, the doctor did not appreciate me just trying to forcefully fuse the shapes together. Unfortunately, all this nonsensical shape-shifting made me think of was the midweek makeovers that my mother would perform on the layout of our home furniture while my dad was away on business. In this equation I played the part of an unwilling moving crew member. Of course, my dad was upset, he comes home and all the furniture had danced around like some off-Broadway production of The Business Trip and The Beast. So this poor woman was probably very confused when she said "Move the shapes to make them fit in the best way" and my response was "I think dad won't like that very much. Remember last time?"

The next intellectual antagonist I came face to face with was the mathematical portion of the test. This was an area everyone in school figured I excelled in simply because I wore glasses, a correlation I have yet to understand to this day. "I can't see where I am going, therefore, I understand numbers" makes absolutely no sense to me, but maybe that's just because my numerical knowledge far outweighs my ability to think rationally. As if everyone who's ever worn glasses just spends their childhood bumping into walls in their living room and just reaches this point of sad seclusion "Well, I guess I'm not going anywhere, so I might as well work on my times tables chart." It's the only impairment with a perceived advantage. I'd never look at someone with their arm in a cast and think "Now there's a guy who's got the Periodic Table of Elements memorized." To fulfill this part of the test, I was told to count backwards from 100 to 0 in increments of 7. Or maybe I did this in order to secure a job as NFL commissioner,  Roger Goodell's personal assistant in his quest to disallow any New England Patriot touchdowns that he felt were gained via an unfair advantage such as having deflated footballs, tampering with headphones or throwing the ball to Julian Edelman,

If simple subtraction was considered dipping my toe in my personal pool of paranoia, I was forcibly flopped into the deep end with the next segment which my doctor called Data Checking. which is the ability to look at information to verify its accuracy or identify differences. I was asked to quickly and effectively analyze numbers and written pieces of information on in two groups to make sure data was carried over properly on tables, lines and charts. Interestingly, Tables, Lines and Charts was also the name of the lowest grossing but most intellectually stimulating pay per view event in the history of the WWE. As the younger of two siblings, this test really hit on a touchy spot with me, because as I went through school I ended up having a lot of the same teachers my brother had had before me and given my unique last name, I was quickly and continuously identified as "Michael's Little Brother." My brother and I share the same last name, the same parents, the same birth date two years apart and the same initials. So, as an outsider looking in, it would be easy to treat us the same. However, he was more into math and science and things that would benefit him and usher in a decent paying career in his future. Whereas, I preferred English and Social Studies because I learned vocabulary words such as bumfuzzle and got to say Frigate Raleigh under the safeguard of knowing I was talking about a Revolutionary War vessel. My brother played football and lacrosse and was rather sturdy. I ran cross country and track and was practically transparent. He was in Future Business Leaders of America because it would look good on his college application. I joined Spanish Honors Society, because one night a year we organized an All You Can Eat taco night in the cafeteria. I think that we can all agree if data and numbers send you into hysterics, there's a problem. Halfway through this exercise I proceeded to blurt out "BOTH OF THE CHARTS ARE FINE! SO WHAT, IF ONE IS DIFFERENT? THEY'RE BOTH SPECIAL!!!" This was not the kind of out of the box, emotions driven answer that they were looking for.

Personally, my least favorite ingredient in the days' cocktail of cognitive analysis was the first one that was added during our introduction. I am given three words and throughout our tumultuous time together, she will ask me to repeat the words to her. This part of the test reminded me of that one friend we all have that caught that ONE big fish that ONE time you went out on a boat with them an now you need to hear about it every time you see each other, which in your mind is always far too often. I hated this because for everything that followed, I felt as though I was only half paying attention. Like when you're talking to someone and they have a bunch of snots hanging out of their nose and you're trying to intently listen to them talk about issues they are having with a relationship while you're thinking to yourself "I think I know the problem!" Among the random bits of information that the email of my intellect has chosen to mark as "Important" is that the three words that I was given when I last had this testing done were: Apple, School and Church. I remember that because I wrote them down on my hand when she wasn't looking. Again, I 'd argue that it took a decent amount of brain power to decide to do this, be at peace with it no matter how morally wrong it was and then wait for a moment when she couldn't see me write it. Really, it would've been easy enough to remember though. "OK, two buildings I reluctantly went into as a child and a food I reluctantly ate, got it."

Now. I am in no position to judge anyone's organization and filing skills, but I'm not sure whether they keep a record of what words they've used in the past, because for whatever reason, as I began the testing this time around, anxiously awaiting the trio of trepidation, she says "OK, your three words are apple, school and church." I felt as though I was a member of the band of Grecian soldiers responsible for rolling the wooden horse up to the walls of Troy like "OK, we give up. Here's your surrender present, bye!" I tried to stifle my excitement. This feeling was like when you were in school and you had a math test on a topic where you and your classmates had unanimously decided to check out for the chapter. So the teacher agrees to do a couple of examples on the board prior to handing out the test. Instead of easing our exam anxiety, these hieroglyphics only served to heighten the awareness of our impending "F." Recognizing a hopeless errand when she saw one, our teacher wiped her hands of responsibility like Pontius Pilate before the crucifixion and retreated to her desk accidentally leaving Playbook to Pythagorean Theorem perfection unerased and available, right in front of us.

Should we have said something to the teacher? Of course. Did we say anything? Absolutely not! This one kid in our class, Aaron, raises his hand to tell the teacher and our entire class that, indirectly, he valued his letter grade more than his life. Everyone else shot him a look like "Aaron, so help me, if you screw this up for us, the second we are off of school grounds, you will be in the ground." In the 6 years since high school, I have encountered crying children in public and an overly confident brother who bet me that Kansas City was located in Kansas, but the valuable lesson I learned that day that could not be taught in any textbook was that sometimes in life, it's best to keep your mouth shut. Do you want to know how many times the topic of life regrets pops up and I've used the phrase "Man, I really wish I had paid attention when my teacher was talking to us about Pythagorean Theorem?" Zero!

This doctor wanted me to remember the words apple, school and church and I can promise you, they will be in the back of my mind until the day I die.