He probably thinks I'm an idiot

According to Wikipedia, passive-aggressive behaviour refers to passive, sometimes obstructionist resistance to authoritative instructions in interpersonal or occupational situations. Someone who engages in passive-aggressive behavior will typically not confront others directly about problems. But, in some cases it can also be fun!

For example, when I was in high school, my incredibly handsome twin brother and I shared a car, a 1985 black IROC Z-28 (shown here). At the time, that car was awesome. During my senior year, I asked a young lady to the movies. Naturally, she said yes. (Ok, her exact words were, "I guess.")

The day of the date, a friend told me that another friend told her that my date had told the friend of a friend that the only reason she was going on the date was so that she could ride in the car. And I thought it was because of my sparkling personality. I thought about canceling the date, but I didn't want to stoop to her level. And I didn't know for sure if she actually said that.

So I went on the date. I just took my sister's car instead. My sister had a very nice Buick Regal, so it's not like I showed up in a Ford Pinto, but when I picked her up for the date, she said, "Uh, where's your car?"

See, that was fun.

Another example happened in college. I was in a large political science class, and I was doing OK in the class. I did well on the first test, and I took pretty good notes. Before the final, a classmate asked if he could copy my notes because he had missed a few classes, and he knew that I hadn't. So I let him borrow them, he made his copies, and he returned them that same day.

A few minutes before the final, he sits in the seat directly behind me. He leans forward and says, "Hey, when you take your final, could you keep your test on the right side of the desk? I got really wasted last night and didn't get a chance to study. Don't worry, I only need to make a 60 to pass the class."

I was pissed that he expected me to help him pass the class just because he couldn't take the time to study. But, I'm not a snitch so I let him copy off my test. I put a little dot under each answer that I thought was correct, and then I purposely circled a different answer on every single question. When he got up to turn in his test, I went back and changed all of my answers.

I got an 'A' on the test and in the class, but I imagine he didn't make the 60 he needed to pass. When he got his grades, he probably saw his failing grade in political science and thought to himself, "That guy I cheated off of was an idiot!"

I hope he's the assistant coach

I didn't sleep well Friday night. The soccer team I coach had their first game of the fall season Saturday morning, and I was nervous about how well the kids would do. Yes, it's "just" recreational soccer, and yes, it's not about the winning or losing so long as the kids have fun. Well, in my opinion it's not much fun if the other team beats the holy heck out of you.

Why was I worried? First, we just moved up to U12 (Under 12) this season. At the U12 level, we play with a full complement of players, 11 vs. 11. And since I didn't play soccer growing up, I had my concerns about my ability to decide on a formation and where to play the kids.

Second, I was worried about the number of new kids I had on the team and the number who hadn't played soccer before. Several years ago, the U7 team I coached had eight kids on the team, five of whom were new and had never played soccer before. We lost every game that season, and we never scored a goal in any of our games. Granted, they did improve over the season, but losing the first game 13-0 certainly sucked.

Third, I was worried about playing older kids. There is no U11 age bracket, so the kids play in the U12 bracket for 2 years before they move up to the next one. All of the kids on my team just moved up to U12, and we were playing a team that was comprised mostly (if not completely) of kids who were in their second year of playing U12.

And the other team was a lot bigger. They had 2 or 3 players that were bigger than the biggest kid on my team. (I think they might have been bigger than our other coach.) While we were warming up, one of my smaller kids looked down the field at the other team and remarked, "I hope #17 is the assistant coach!"

But as we all have learned, sometimes we worry about nothing.

We won the game 2-0.

Could you use four bags, please?

In another chapter of my exciting life, I made a trip to the grocery store yesterday. It was a quick trip because I only needed some basic necessities, like milk and peanut butter. Oh, and dishwasher detergent. I even left the empty bottle on my kitchen counter as a reminder to buy some more on my next trip to the grocery store.

Hey, guess what I forgot to buy yesterday?

So, this morning I made a return trip to the grocery store to buy the memorable dishwasher detergent. And since I hate buying just one item (and I like fresh breath), I also bought three packs of gum. After paying for my items, I reached for my plastic bag of groceries when I noticed it was actually plastic bags of groceries. My four items, three of which were the size of thick credit cards, had been placed in two bags.

Was that really necessary? Did the bagger think that adding the packs of gum to the bag with the dishwasher detergent would cause the bag to explode from the stress? If the bags are that fragile, perhaps he should have bagged each of the packs of gum separately as well, just to be safe.

Hope springs eternal

There's been an update to the story I wrote back in 2003: There's always hope. The story was about my friend Laura and her mom's ELEVENTH marriage. Well, that one ended long ago, but this month Laura's mom got married yet again! Her husband count remains at nine because she remarried the same guy from marriage #11.

Laura wanted to have a betting pool on how long this one would last, so she asked me to write something for her. I created a simple website where you could guess the length of this marriage (in months) and also choose the over/under of 6 months: Marriage Pool. Her mom's marriages have lasted between two weeks and ten years, but I guessed it would last at least a month so you can choose between 1 and 60 months. (I'd be surprised if it lasted longer than that.) Please only bet once per person.

There is no cost to bet because there's no prize for winning. Ok, maybe the lucky winner will get to be the next spouse, even the ladies. Who knows, maybe by then she'll have decided she's been married to every guy in existence and will have moved on to the ladies.

Enjoy!

Try the ones with the chocolate sprinkles

Many, many years ago, the woman I was dating at that time, Lecia, used to have a cookie exchange party between Thanksgiving and Christmas every year. A few of her coworkers would come over to the house with cookies or candy, and they would sample the goods (so to speak) and exchange the recipes. And for some reason, there was always one person who would make the super secret Neiman Marcus chocolate chip cookies, but that's a different story.

So one year, Lecia decided that I should make Rice Krispies treats for this party. I have no idea why I was being roped into this, but there are better battles to waste my time on, so I went along for the ride. Bear in mind, this is before Kelloggs started selling Rice Krispies treats pre-made, so I actually had to turn on the stove and stuff.

So I started by melting the required amount of butter over low heat. I added the marshmallows and began stirring them, waiting for them to melt as well. I was briefly distracted from the stove during the melting process (I swear it was less than 5 seconds), at which time the marshmallows burned and started smoking. Again, I swear it was less than 5 seconds. I salvaged what I could by scraping the remaining unburned marshmallows into another saucepan, but there was still a few flakes of ash in what was left. They actually looked like little sprinkles of chocolate.

Using the remaining marshmallows, I finished making the treats. After they had cooled, I sampled one of my creations. It tasted horrible. When Lecia got home later that day, she sampled a little as well, and she thought they were horrible. They tasted so bad, I didn't think it was entirely due to the marshmallows burning.

So I walked through the cooking process with Lecia. I told her I started by taking the stick of butter out of the butter tray in the refrigerator, cutting off the required amount (which was so conveniently labeled on the side), and melting it in the saucepan.

Lecia asked, "Which sticks of butter?"

"The ones in the butter tray," I replied.

"Those aren't sticks of butter. Those are sticks of Crisco."

Ah, there was my error. I had made a mistake in assuming that the butter tray would have butter in it. Instead, I had cooked with vegetable shortening, and the results were inedible. More than likely, it was also the reason the marshmallows had burned in the first place.

So what should we do with the treats I had made? We didn't think they should be shared at the cookie exchange party, but we didn't want to waste food by throwing them out either. So Lecia took them to work with her to share with her clients and coworkers.

Surprisingly, they all commented on how good they were. They especially liked the little chocolate sprinkles.

It was just as if everyone had swelled.

In the movie Grosse Pointe Blank Martin Blank, played by John Cusack, is a professional assassin who is sent on a mission to a small Detroit suburb, Grosse Pointe. By coincidence, his ten-year high school reunion is taking place there at the same time. His secretary/admin Marcella is trying to convince him to go, and when he asks if she went to hers, she replies, "Yes I did. It was just as if everyone had swelled."

That quote always reminds me of high school reunions in general, and the movie itself reminds me of MY high school reunions. Not because any of my classmates are professional assassins (as far as I know), but because the Martin Blank character graduated in 1986, as I did.

Plus, I was thinking of that movie this past weekend at my twenty-year high school reunion. Yes, some people had "swelled". But some were thinner than they were at the ten-year. Some looked the same as high school, while others were almost unrecognizable. Some were still married to their high school sweethearts, while others ... uh ... well, others weren't. Some were still living in town, while others hadn't been back since graduation.

I tried to talk to everyone in attendance, but I have been known to ramble (yes, really) so I just ran out of time. While catching up, here are the three most common questions I heard:

1. Where's your brother? My incredibly handsome twin brother was in the Dominican Republic for work, so he and his family were unable to attend. I didn't think anything of it since we haven't lived in the same town for almost fifteen years, but I guess my classmates were used to seeing us together. I thought about changing shirts periodically so that I could pretend both of us were there, and I thought about being a jerk to everybody while I was "Ron". But that seemed like too much work.


2. How's your dad? My old man was a vocal fixture at our football practices and games, as well as our basketball games. Plus, he was a little league baseball coach for three years for me and several classmates. For the record, he's doing fine and is still as vocal as ever (as noted here).


3. So you're not married? (or a variation of that) Nope, still not. I hear it's because I'm kind of a jerk. :)

All-in-all, it was lot of fun. I look forward to the next one.


August Update: Here are a small subset of the photos from the reunion. And by subset, I mean "ones with me in them."

My classmate Mark's wife Lonie, me, and my classmate Dawna. Even I can look studly if you surround me with beautiful women.


Dawna, Scott, Scott's wife Lori, Cindy, me, and Mark. I'm really enjoying my $2 cup of coke.


Me at the reunion picnic. I was on my way to go play in the bouncy room behind me ... uh, I mean I was on my way to supervise the kids.

When did you turn four?

This past weekend my soccer team had their end-of-season party. One of the parents opened up their home to a rowdy bunch of 10 year olds (and their coach). There was food, drinks, basketball, pool (the billiards kind), pinball, and one of those bouncy moon-walk things.

Early in the festivities, I was in the bouncy moon-walk thing doing bouncy, moon-walk things. I took a break from trying to double-bounce the kids high into the air and leaned against the mesh wall. It was at this point that I realized the structure wasn't aired up enough to support me leaning against the wall, and I proceeded to slowing fall over backwards to the ground, pulling the ceiling down in the process. Once I got back up, the ceiling popped back up. However, the kids realized that if they did the same thing, one kid could hold onto the ceiling and be pulled into the air once the rest of them stopped leaning against the wall. I got out before any of it could be blamed on me.

Some of the younger siblings of the players also attended. One such youngster, Noah, was asked how old he was. He responded, "I'm four." One of the parents asked him, "When did you turn four?" First, Noah looked at the person like it was the dumbest question he's ever heard (a look I'm all too familiar with) and then responded, "On my birthday."

Do we really need any more sports channels?

I remember how it used to be, back when we had ABC Wide World of Sports and the "agony of defeat", a few college football games on Saturday, a few NFL games on Sunday, and Monday Night Football. Now, we have ESPN, ESPN2, ESPN U, ESPN Classic, ESPNews, FOX Sports Net, The Golf Channel, MLB Extra Innings, NBA TV, NFL Network, and others. We have Monday Night Football on Mondays AND Thursdays. You can watch an entire season of NASCAR races (right turns not included). Baseball, cycling, hockey, moto-cross, skateboarding, and surfing are all televised.

Do I like all the sports channels? Of course, but I think we're running out of sports to televise. ESPN is broadcasting their own movies. ESPN Classic shows old sports movies. And for some reason, you can watch fat, sweaty guys playing poker. Well, unless it's celebrity poker, and then you can watch thinner B-list celebrities playing poker. Badly.

I was prompted to ask whether or not we needed more sports channels when I was channel surfing last week. First, I stumbled across the National Paintball Championship. I've played paintball before, and I'll be the first to admit that it's fun, but I sure wouldn't watch my game on TV. I imagine it would be like watching paint dry. Literally.

And second, after switching off of the riveting paintball match, I ended up watching the World Dart Championship. There were player bios, the exciting dart-cam (where you could see the shot from just behind the dart in super slo-mo), and actual fans in attendance. I imagine most were family and friends, but who knows, maybe there are dart groupies out there.

Right now, I'm trying to negotiate a contract with ESPN 8 (The Ocho) to televise my church-league softball games, but they're balking at my stipulation that they only show games in which I play well.

They've determined that only amounts to one game every three years.

The physics of weed-eaters

A couple of weeks ago, after I mowed both the front yard and back yard, I wanted to run the weed-eater around the driveway, the sidewalk, the house, and the fence. Unfortunately, I couldn't get it started. Since this was the first time this spring that I had used my gas-powered weed-eater, I figured it might need a new spark plug. After all, it was three years old, and a bad spark plug would explain why it wouldn't turn over.

So this evening when it finally cooled down, I mowed the front. I decided to try the weed-eater again, because I didn't think I would have enough time to mow the back before it got dark. But after 20 minutes, I still couldn't get it started. I took a look at the spark plug, but it looked OK to my untrained eye.

At that point, I realized it was out of gas. I guess that would explain the whole "not starting" thing.

Crisis Averted

My icemaker no longer worked. Actually, it stopped working a several weeks ago, but since the warranty had expired long ago, I didn't want to spend the money to get it fixed. Within a week of it breaking, I got a card in the mail from Sears (where I had bought the refrigerator) asking if I wanted to purchase the extended warranty at a cost that was probably cheaper than a service call. Of course I did.

I didn't want to make it too obvious that the broken icemaker was a preexisting condition, so I waited a few weeks before I called to schedule the repair job. The nice people at Sears gave me a small 8:00am to 5:00pm service window for yesterday, so I planned on spending the day waiting for the repair guy to show up. Fortunately, he showed up in the morning, fixed the icemaker, and was out the door within an hour.

After the repair, an unrelated crisis occurred. While getting ready for work, I was taking off my shirt to put on a clean one, and I got it caught on one of my earrings, sending it flying across the closet. I know what you're thinking: why do bad things happen to good people?

Since I had already wasted the morning waiting for the repair guy, I couldn't spend time looking for it. Instead, I trudged into work, feeling slightly naked. After work, I had soccer practice so it wasn't until late last night that I was able to resume the search.

But this story has a happy ending. After several minutes spent searching CSI-style using a flashlight with the lights out, I did find my earring. America's long nightmare was over. Thank you and good night.