Lovestruck

I had to go get some lab work today. And that is just a soft way of saying I needed to get blood drawn, but the former terminology gets people like me to wander into the doctors office like “What are we doing, a baking soda volcano?!” So instead of handing the desk my insurance card, I handed them a Buffalo Wild Wings gift card out of my wallet and as the girl was bringing me back to the torture chamber we had a good laugh about that because if someone is going to be sticking me with a needle I like to try to talk them out of it or at least get on their good side. The girl was around my age so we are chatting about getting kicked off our parents insurance and Toys R Us closing down. We go back there and I handle the whole thing like a big boy and she’s labeling a vile as I hop off the seat and she goes “Uh oh, you’re going to hate me.” I said “I understand it’s your job to stab me, it’s not your fault.” And she says “I put the sample in the wrong color vile so we have to do it again.” Because apparently blue is for Smurfs and members of Eiffel 65, purple is for dinosaurs and Prince fans and red is for Taylor Swift and Bruce Willis. So she fills up the second vile and we continue talking and I don’t know if it was the result of a loss of blood or falling in love, but I start getting lightheaded. So she’s apologizing profusely and as I leave I had a thought that can only be classified as unwarranted arrogance or straight up stupidity that no one should ever have about someone who has unnecessarily stabbed them twice  ....”Should I have asked her out?”

Dive Bar Exam

Whenever I go out to eat, I can scour the menu for 20 minutes like I’m cramming for the dive bar exam and have my sides and main course memorized and I’m ready to articulate exactly how I want everything cooked, but apparently I had a hunger hypnosis placed on me as a child and the trigger phrase is “and for you.....” because I instantly turn into Patrick Star in line at the Krusty Krab like “Ummmmmm.” Thank goodness the test is always open book

New Years Resignation

January 1st: Statistically speaking this is going to be the busiest day of the year at your local gym, so do your part to thin the herd just a little bit and make the lives of the exercise enthusiast employees a little easier. Don’t be a part of that First Quarter spike that crowds up the CrossFit class! While people are piling into Planet Fitness, park yourself at P F Chang’s Chinese buffet! Why worry the staff at Workout World with a whirlwind of wannabes when you can work your way to the front of the line at Wendy’s in a matter of seconds! And thousands of meatheaded Midases will be headed to Gold’s Gym this morning,  leaving the gateway to Golden Corral wide open!

Happy New Year everyone!

Gingerdead Man

Today on the radio I heard some DJ say "Up next, we will be discussing how you choose to eat a gingerbread man and what that says about your personality."

And none of the digestive diagnoses were good either. The woman was like "If you go right for the head it means your abrasive and impatient. If you eat the limbs first it means you have self esteem issues and feel unworthy to lead and if you go straight for the buttons you are meticulous and annoying."

Can I ask a question? Is there any aspect of life that can remain unexamined?! Does every activity need to have some underlying epiphany attached to it? Seriously, I'm all for self-reflection, but do I really need to be made aware of what Aristotle thinks about my eating habits? I know my waistline is held together by borrowed time thanks to my lifestyle and lineage and I'm at a point in my life where I fit too comfortably into outfits and elevators to be self-conscious about the way I eat, so can't I just enjoy that a little longer?! Eating a gingerbread man is already weird enough partaking in this candy coated cannibalism of consuming something with four limbs and a face. For me, every first bite is accompanied with a fear that I'm going to hear it shout "NOT THE GUMDROP BUTTONS!!!" can we just leave it there?

I Am Fantasy

I take my dog out around 5 a.m. every morning. Which typically means that the only active things in my neighborhood at that time are he and I and the streetlights. It is quiet and peaceful and also has given me inspiration for a movie about a man and his dog struggling to survive in post apocalyptic Nashua, New Hampshire. The film was accidentally released with what was meant to be a joke title, “I Am Fantasy.” While he is indoors, Sammy has the ambition of a Saturday morning adolescent at 8 a.m. However, on walks I tend to let Sammy roam around a bit. A while back he started to walk toward a seemingly harmless, small shadowy figure. As I got closer, I noticed the creature was black with a single white stripe, a skunk! All inquisitive little Sammy was thinking was “We’re Going to be Friends” (as much as I hate to explain jokes, I put that in quotes because that is a song by The White Stripes.....HA! Get it?! My sincerest apologies to anyone who already got the reference 😔) I scooped him up like a loose football and guided him back towards the house. Needless to say, but I almost didn’t even need a morning coffee after that stinky scare. Lastly, I’d like to address that I am absolutely onboard with the irony here of grabbing Sammy away from a skunk and rushing him into my house given the overwhelmingly negative response that the Yankee Candle people got following the release of this years holiday scent, Bachelor Pad.

Call Me by My Name

As some of you may know, I had it pretty rough as a child.

You see, my parents made the dumbfounding decision to have alliterative offspring, meaning my brother, Michael and I were given names that started with the same letter.

Why a parent would do this to themselves is lost on me. Sometimes my parents would stare in silence, looking at me like I was the two remaining answers after using the 50/50 lifeline on the hit gameshow “Who Wants to be a Parent?” Then they would try to mask the amnesia with affection and just throw out nicknames like “sweetie” or “dear” or just collectively refer to us as their “M&Ms” but I knew what they were trying to pull!

I’ve heard from people who think my brother and I look exactly alike and their are others who are certain that one of us was picked up at “the store.” Personally, I don’t see where the confusion is. Michael played football and lacrosse and I played Xbox and Minesweeper so I have to imagine it wasn’t so it really comes down to asking yourself “did I have to move to the side when walking down the hallway or did I just feel a light breeze?” I feel like it wasn’t so much the look as it was the letter that was to blame. I haven’t made a whole lot of preemptive parenting decisions, but I have decided I am going name children by alternating between first and last letters of the alphabet. So my lineage lineup will look sound something like Adam, Zachary, Bryan and Yadon  or or Andrea, Zoey and Brianna (sorry, but definitely stopping at 3 girls. I’ve heard too many stories of people holding out hope for that boy and long story short, the dad now needs to make bathroom reservations a week in advance.)

Rise of the Machines

I’ve never been one of those “the machines are listening in and will one day rise up” people, but this was just weird. Yesterday while I was in the car, “Let me clear my throat” was on the radio and I got to a red light right at the part when he goes “FREEZE!” And today I was getting my “Uptown Funk” on in downtown Nashua and got to a red light at the part “Stop! Wait a minute.” Years ago, the car in front of us did the unthinkable and actually used their blinker while my radio was blasting “to the left, to the left...” I also find an inappropriate level of inspiration from the fact that when I’m coming up on a yellow light, My CRV, or Sir Fix-a-lot, tends to throw on “Don’t Stop Believin’”