Honey, I Shrunk the Roommates!

Here's something they didn't tell me when I first got my puppy: Eventually, I would start to find tiny little teeth around the house.

The first one I saw I was like “I don’t have popcorn in the house, what the heck is this?!” It’s turned into a little "Easter enamel hunt like “Where will the next one be?” I feel as though I moved into a house where a hockey player, a beaver, the tooth fairy and a version of the children’s toy, “Crocodile Dentist” that came to life were best friends in high school so they made the novice mistake of deciding “Let’s all live together! We’ll learn about each other’s nasty habits and weird quirks and ultimately, that we can only tolerate each other in small, spaced out doses and everything will be totally fine!”

Verbal jousting eventually turned to violence. In order to salvage the situation one of them thought “I know, let’s use a shrink ray, scale ourselves down so we’re not getting all up in each other’s grizzy so often.” (because that’s how the Crocodile Dentist talks) Sadly, the trail of tiny teeth only serves as evidence to the inevitable ending that while there have made a valiant effort to coexist peacefully, it’s just not going to work out.

Wingding Talkers

Twelve years of hard work completely and utterly undone!

I’d like to believe that I have a lot going for me. I’m a hard worker, friendly and I cook a mean hamburger. However, I’ll be the first to admit that my handwriting certainly has never and most likely will never come out looking  like calligraphy. For the past few years, the only writing I’ve done are stock sheets for work and I’m writing those up under duress and trying to get them done as quickly as possible. With my decision of placing a higher value on productivity over penmanship, the paper always ends up looking like someone tried to trace Sam and Frodo’s path of travel through a map of Middle Earth. The good news is I could probably write anything I wanted on there and people could spend years of uselessness trying to crack the code of the “Wingding Talkers.”

Ode to Mediocrity

A Hat Trick is when someone scores three goals in a game. In hockey, a Gordie Howe hat trick is when, in a single game, someone has a goal, an assist and a fight. During my playing days, a Mark Woonton hat trick was when I walked into the correct locker room, put my skates on the right feet and looked in the direction I was supposed to be looking prior to every puck drop.

My dad said if I scored one goal, he’d carry my hockey stick out of the locker room to the car. If I scored two goals, he’d also carry my equipment bag and if I scored three goals, we’d pack up the van move to Canada and I’d pursue a career in hockey full time. I’m sure this was meant as incentive to play well, but with this as my motivation, he inadvertently taught me to never pass the puck, ever! I was taking it from my own teammates, flying around the ice like the Rogue Rink Runner. As you can tell by my current residence and nearly transparent triceps, I scored plenty of goals but could never complete the trifecta. Every time I left the rink having scored only one one goal,  I’d bust through the doors, beat red in the face, breathing heavily struggling with a giant duffel bag shouting “BRING THE CAR AROUND, QUICK!!!” and to this day, I consider it a complete miracle that that chain of events didn't put me as the prime suspect for every murder in the past week within a 50 mile radius. There’s something to be said for striving to be a mediocre talent, because I’m proud of my playing days, but I’m also proud to still be an American.

Market Basket Case Study 2 : Toast Protocol

I have a deeply rooted admiration and envy for those of you who can walk through a grocery store with the planning, purpose and precision of an MI6 agent moving toward an extraction point. Oftentimes, I have the pick up plan of a preschooler in a pinball machine.

"Ok, I'm going to get Pop Tarts, soda, chocolate milk, Nacho Cheese Doritos, a frozen pizza, grab a handful of grapes out of an open bag in the produce aisle to get my serving of fruit for the week and then because that's only five things, I can get in the express lane and I'm out of there!"

Super Dad

Every parent is a superhero.

Now that I’ve had a puppy for a while I feel as though I’ve graduated to become a member of the “JV Justice League.” I remember my dad used to pull this move where he’d put a liquid chocolate topping on my brother and my ice cream, turn around and perform some sort of “Sundae sorcery” on our dessert and it would turn into a solid. As I’d later learn, the 3 ingredients required in becoming this culinary Copperfield were simply: Shell topping, stupid children and time.  As Sammy has been healing this week I’ve developed both superhuman hearing and night vision. I used to possess the ability to sleep through a mild nuclear holocaust (not sure there are levels to that) and over the past few days if Sammy decided to launch a nighttime gnawing on his cone, I’d (admittedly half awake) pop right up and snap his cone back in place in complete darkness with the speed and skill of Doris from your Nana’s Nocturnal Knitting Club. Those who know me best, know that to say I have fine motor skills, you’d pronounce the word “fine” with the sassiness of a child who knows they won’t be getting their way and if you had to put all your money on either me or a pre-child labor law factory working 8 year old fresh off a 48 hour shift to button up a shirt faster, we all know your money is going on the lethargic latter lad.

 I feel as though I’ve hit on a major aspect of adult living because I’m able to move my mentality from “I haven’t slept well these past few days” to “I’ve acquired a new skill” and the fact that I’ve arrived at the conclusion “I think I might be a superhero” may not be the most dignified destination, I feel as though in this journey of life, I’m at least headed the right way.

Don't Quote Me On This

I don't mean to sound arrogant, but I am responsible for pretty much every famous quote ever. Here are the quotes and the context in which I had originally intended them to be used:

"That's one small step for (a) man, one giant leap for mankind."

- Pretty much any time I get out of bed without hitting the snooze button


"Efforts and courage are not enough without purpose and direction."

-Driving around in circles in Boston for an hour and a half trying to make sense of the people, places and things

"The only thing we have to fear is fear itself."

- Psyching myself up thinking I could totally sit through "Truth or Dare" in theaters even though myself, my friends and everyone in their seats knows that I'm going to end up crapping my pants at least twice

"I didn't fail the test, I just found one hundred ways to do it wrong."

 - Trying to justify and weasel my way out of a bad grade in a Philosophy class by using that whole "The question is more important than the answer" crap against them

"We become what we think about."

- When I tell myself I'm going to go to the gym and then I realize how good it made me feel just to have the thought so I figure I will save the environment the catastrophe caused by the emissions released from my car while driving over there and still feel satisfied by the idea of me going to the gym

"To be good, and to do good, is all we have to do."

- In 1st grade, my teacher had to hastily step out of the classroom and take a phone call so sure turned to me, being the only kid sitting in the front row like a good little doobie, and said "Mark, you're in charge." I turned to my classmates and got the statement above out just before tape was placed over my mouth, I was shoved to the ground and general chaos ensued.

"Success is walking from failure to failure with no loss of enthusiasm."

- About one week after the above incident, my class celebrated Valentine's Day and I got to hand out cards to the giddy and grotesque girls in my class. My ratio of recipients was that of a beggar on the street, most people walked by or looked the other way and the ones that accepted my envelope of ambition just felt sorry for me.

"When you cease to dream you cease to live."

- In math class, we stayed on scatter plots and box and whisker long enough to make someone want to plot out a few plans of their own. My classmates, myself and my conscious mind gravitated away from the material and one day I drifted off to sleep only to hear my teachers' booming voice "MARK! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" I quite appropriately responded with the words above as I had certainly felt that my life was in jeopardy.

"If you can't explain it simply, you don't understand it well enough."

- Too often in life, I've sat for 90 minutes listening to someone tell me about a 30 minute show (including commercials) and this approach is a real shot in the foot because any hope of me now wanting to sit through this program, seemingly with the plot of the Penrose steps, is completely and utterly dashed. I've said this and later found out that the other person had not even explained their way up to the first commercial break yet.

"Start where you are. Use what you have. Do what you can."

- In all fairness this one wasn't me and it may not be a direct quote because my dad was speaking through a crackling Walkie Talkie. My family had gone on a hike and my mom made the mistake of allowing me to have two sandwiches for lunch when we got to the peak and my father made the mistake of charging ahead down the mountain. I picked up the pace, but soon realized that the digested deli meat was going to reach its final destination long before I did. I grabbed my Wakie Talkie and exclaimed "What should I do?!" My eyes darted around looking for the most lavatory-like landscape and my gaze turned to locate the seemingly softest leaves. On the other end, in the unmistakable tone of desperation, but imminent defeat my dad said "Start where you are. Use what you have. Do what you can."



 

Train of Thought

I sincerely believe that had I been born in the 1800s I definitely would have been a train robber. I don't think I possess the cunning nature it takes to pull off train heists or the general disregard for the law that is required in that line of work, but what I do have is a deeply rooted hatred for trains.

When I'm sitting in my car at a railroad crossing, waiting for two pay periods for this unnecessary obstruction as it moves with the speed and resolve of a bitter husband in a Yankee candle store, I can't help but have the same thought of anyone who saw me walk into a party in high school, "What are you doing here?! We don't need you!" There's a good chance that anything that train is carrying can be shipped via some other means or has legs to get to where it's going under its own power. I'm not saying that what guys like Jesse James and Butch Cassidy did was right, but I get it.