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.