Vegas musings-Part 1

I just finished my 7th trip to Vegas and I’ve gotten to the point where it’s probably no longer necessary to give a blow-by-blow account. I’ll stick to the highlights (and lowlights).

My friend John went to Vegas at the same time as me and it was fairly obvious he was going to have better luck than me. I checked in before John and I was assigned a window seat without getting an option for any other seat. He was offered an exit row seat. On the way back, he checked in an hour later than me and was offered the 6th row. I was placed pretty much in the restroom, next to a couple guys with a gas issue. He won $450 at blackjack, I got my ass handed to me everywhere I went. John was probably due for some good luck, he got divorced last year and got laid off 3 months ago.
The first night we got there was a Thursday. It was the first time I can recall walking down the strip and not seeing any porn slappers (that’s the term used for the people slapping cards with pictures of “escorts” on them. I thought maybe they had a union and had gone on strike. No such luck, they were back the next night. It was also the quietest I have ever seen the Strip. The pedestrian traffic is typically nut-to-butt, that night it was almost eerie how quiet it was.
I had expected to be approached by some ladies of the night since the wife wasn’t with me. No, I wasn’t going to do anything as I’m entirely too cheap to pay for that kind of service. Instead, I wasn’t approached once. Maybe it was because I didn’t shave and I tend to look a little like a homeless person on vacation. Or I’m just not as hot as I think. Meanwhile, John was approached twice. The first time he didn’t realize what was happening until she asked if he was looking for some company.
I spent some time (and money) playing a game called Sigma Derby. I’ve never seen a machine like it before in all my gambling adventures. I’m not sure how old it is, but it probably dates back to the 70’s. It has 5 mechanical horses and the game gives odds on the chances of each 2 horses finishing 1st and 2nd. The odds range from 2-1 to 200-1. The winner is obviously more likely to be the 2-1 odds than 200-1, but that doesn’t stop everyone from betting at least a quarter on the longshot. Anyway, what really makes the game fun is seeing a bunch of fools screaming at mechanical horses.
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Discount movie review-Adventureland

I’m nothing if not a public servant. So for a public service, I would like to warn you about a movie that you might consider watching.
Last weekend Adventureland made it’s way to the top of our Netflix list. It was one of a long line of movies that we had intended to see but never got around to it. Unfortunately, last weekend we got around to it. This movie was falsely advertised. By watching the trailer, one makes the assumption it’s a comedy. If it was trying to be a comedy, it failed miserably. It turned out to be more of a
coming of age” movie, which is Hollywood-ese for “there’s a hopeless male virgin in this movie.”

The fact that it is a coming of age movie isn’t what made this movie suck. For starters, the hopeless virgin somehow manages to have girls chasing him fairly regularly. I’ve been a hopeless virgin, so trust me when I say this doesn’t happen. Secondarily, his father has a drinking problem that is never addressed. It was just thrown into the movie for no apparent reason. Sure, the hopeless resident of Virginia finds his father’s stash in the car and proceeds to get loaded and wreck the car. But that’s all that happens.
The acting in Adventureland is subpar. Kristen Stewart (OMG, I LUV HER IN TWILIGHT) is the love interest of the virgin and I have no idea how she lands acting roles. Apparently someone has told her that running your hands through your hair is the proper way to portray every emotion. If you took a drink every time she ran her hand through her hair, you’d be passed out before the opening credits finished. She spends the entire movie looking extremely bored. Ryan Reynolds is also in the movie, he’s married and having an affair with Kristen Stewart (OMG, I THOUGHT SHE ONLY LIKED VAMPIRES!! THAT SLUT!!) Sleeping with her seemed to bore Ryan also, his delivery was a monotone the entire movie.
As far as I can tell, this movie has no redeeming qualities. I didn’t laugh, there were no car chases, I wasn’t entertained, I didn’t figure out the meaning of life, and I didn’t see any boobs. And it had nothing to do with the Adventureland in Altoona, IA. All I did was get another hour and a half older. And I came up with this phenomenal movie review.
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Wasting Away in Marco Island-Day 4

Our last full day in Florida. I gave up on trying to do homework by the pool and instead drank a lot. The wife was making up for lost time also by downing vodka and pineapple juice. The F’s were following suit and we were all feeling pretty good by the early afternoon.

We went back to our rooms late that afternoon and got ready for dinner. We went upstairs to meet up with the F’s and there was an unmistakable chill in the air. We find out there is something that appears to be a long hair on the floor of their bathroom. The hair doesn’t look like anything that could have belonged to anyone in our party. Mrs. F jumped to the conclusion that Mr. F had relations with a housekeeper in their bathroom. It’s a fairly ridiculous claim no matter how you slice it, and one that was fueled by an afternoon of drinking. At some point the wife and I decided to investigate the claim. The “hair” wasn’t a hair at all, it was a thread from someone’s clothing. We decided Mr. F probably had relations with a rag doll.
We went to a hibachi restaurant that evening. We shared a table with 4 other adults and one ill-behaved child. Also, this restaurant only had one chef so we had to wait for him to serve two other tables. Unfortunately, the food wasn’t worth the wait. Of course, the food would have had to be phenomenal to make up for the wait. We headed back to the hotel and called it a night as we had a shuttle picking us up at 6 to catch our flight home.
Nothing of interest on the way home except the shuttle driver was interested in seeing how fast we could get there. He kept it pegged right around 90 all the way there. He was of eastern European descent, so maybe he thought he was on the autobahn.
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Wasting away in Marco Island-Day 3

We awoke with a bit of a hangover and a vague recollection of the previous nights events. Some recollections were vague-er than others, like Mr. F forgetting about the pantsless episode of the previous night.

Since we figured the F’s wouldn’t be moving very fast, we decided to take a walk down the beach. Considering it was our 3rd day overlooking the beach, we thought it was about time we actually went to the beach. We strolled for awhile and picked up some shells before heading up to the F’s room for some breakfast/lunch. They had recovered nicely from the night before and were ready to hang out by the pool after eating. I passed on the pool and instead made a futile attempt to do some homework. I joined them at the pool after a couple hours with laptop in hand so I could continue to accomplish nothing.
We killed the afternoon and headed to an Italian restaurant called Da Vinci’s for dinner. Good food, no crazy karaoke singer, and great service. We took it easy after returning and opted to check out a movie from the front desk. We watched “I Love You Man” while Mrs. F faded off to sleep. It appeared that I wouldn’t wake up with a hangover the next morning.
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Wasting Away in Maro Island-Day 2

We slept in late in an effort to avoid a hangover. That, and we were awake for about 20 hours the previous day. We staggered out of bed around 10am and checked if the F’s were up. We headed up get breakfast (or brunch or lunch, depending on your point of view) and Mr. F made approximately enough food for 83 people. We ate while watching the Hawks flounder through an uninspired half of football against the Badgers. At halftime I started drinking, at which time the Hawks started waking up. I don’t mess with karma, so I started picking up the pace of my drinking. By the time the Hawks sealed a 20-10 victory I had a pretty nice buzz going.

The ladies had gone out for pedicures at halftime in the hopes of avoiding my crappy mood if the Hawks lost. After they returned we decided we needed to start drinking in earnest. We went to a bar called Dolphin Tiki first. It was a small local dive on the water. I didn’t realize any bar still had functioning rear projection TV’s before going there. We ordered some bar food and the wife proceeded to make a run at the world record for vodka and pineapple juice consumption. Since the bar was literally a hut on the boardwalk, the restrooms were about 50 yards away in a building. After a few beers I had to break the seal and I wondered over. The restroom was dark and there was no light switch to be found. I had to settle for leaving the door partially open so I wouldn’t piss all over myself or the floor. After I had relieved myself, I did a more thorough investigation on the lighting situation. I discovered the “light switch” was actually one of those cheap timers hotels use to make sure you don’t leave the hot tub on forever.
We left Dolphin Tiki before the wife could pass out. Our next stop was the Sand Bar. It also had a local, laid back feel. The three of us set out to catch up to the wife, while she slowed down and attempted to meet us somewhere in the middle. We had planned to stay for only a couple hours, but they had a band start around 9pm. I’m normally not a fan of bands as they tend to suck, as least that’s the case where I come from. The band was Silent Fury and they were really good. And that’s not just the beer talking. They played a lot of hard rock and metal like 311, Black Sabbath, Metallica and a lot of other current stuff that I can’t recall. One of the highlights for me was “Sweet Home Alabama” because the lead singer had his father (who’s also a musician) come up to sing lead vocals while the lead singer took over at bass. It fricking rocked. So if Silent Fury is ever in your neighborhood, check them out. They’re out of Syracuse and their website is silentfury.net. And no, they didn’t pay me to say that.
It was about 1:30 when we finally staggered out of the bar. The wife was the only person capable of driving so Mr. F relinquished the keys. I got in the front seat, the F’s slid into the back. That’s when Mr. F started using a lot of F words. Apparently Mrs. F had left a drink in the cup holder and he spilled it on himself. He pissed and moaned about having wet shorts, then a projectile flew over my shoulder and hit the windshield. It was his shorts. He rode the rest of the way to the resort sans shorts. We got there and he still didn’t want to put them on, so he carried them all the way to his room. And yes, there are pictures.
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Wasting away in Marco Island-Day 1

Just got back from Marco Island, still going through detox.

We left last Friday morning with Mr and Mrs. Fancypants (same couple as our last Vegas trip). The great thing about Iowa airports is you can get almost anywhere you want at anytime you want, as long as you like layovers and traveling at odd hours. Our flight left at 6AM from an airport an hour's drive away. The only people awake when we got up were meth addicts and hunters. And possibly meth-addicted hunters.

The flight was uneventful, except we had to haul ass to make our connection in Atlanta. We arrived at Fort Meyers Airport around noon and went to pick up the rental. Mr. and Mrs. F had there first minor disagreement of the trip about which SUV to pick. On the way to Marco, they got in their second argument about our room. The wife and I tried to make light of it, saying we'd stay in a dumpster or broom closet if necessary. Apparently we weren't guaranteed to have an gulf view and this pissed off Mr. F. It was becoming fairly obvious that we were overdue for a drink.
We grabbed lunch at the Snook Inn, home of the World Famous Salad Bar. What's world famous about it, you ask? Absolutely nothing. They did have a huge barrel of pickles which probably contained an excess of fecal matter. Maybe that's all it takes to be famous in Marco Island. I passed on the pickles and had a grouper sandwich. It was really good, but maybe I just think that because I was starving. Far all I know it was dropped in the pickle poop.
We reached our resort (after a stop to pick up some alcohol) and luckily we were both in gulf view rooms. We were 3 floors apart, but there were no scenes at the front desk. We made our way down to the pool and set up to soak in some rays. I'm not a big "soak up the rays" kind of guy, but I made a concerted effort to just relax and enjoy the weather. We stayed at the pool for a few hours before heading out for dinner.
We we to an Italian restaurant called Casa Mia, which means "whale's vagina." The food was great, I had a shrimp stuffed with crab meat over linguini. Unfortunately there was some live entertainment. A tone-deaf woman was signing karaoke to a bunch of songs from the '50s. It was like listening to an alley cat getting sodomized by a mountain goat. The best was she came over to our table and asked us how we liked the music. I came really close to telling her what I thought, but Mrs. F bailed me out and said it was good and she like the Shania Twain song. I'm not entirely sure she even did a Shania Twain song, but it got her away from our table before I could make an ass of myself. We stopped by the grocery store to pick up some breakfast food and some more alcohol before heading back to the hotel for several nightcaps.
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MTIAWWIFABIKOEATBNWTWTA-What's Eating Gilbert Grape

I'm not a big fan of Leonardo DiCaprio, but I have to admit he's really good in this movie. He's plays a mentally disabled adolescent (Arnie), and it almost seems like he's not acting...Johnny Depp plays his older brother (Gilbert) and he's also the primary breadwinner in the family.

There are several reasons why I like this movie. First, it's set in Iowa. Ok, so it doesn't cast Iowans in a very good light but we have to take whatever publicity we can get. Second, I love the part when Arnie goes apeshit when the town gets a Burger Barn (GILBERT, IT'S A BURGER BARN!!!). I also like that Gilbert's girlfriend is kind of a skank that only comes for the summer in her camper. The movie depicts Iowa as the mecca for cheap campers. There's a scene where dozens of crappy pull-behind campers are in a caravan en route to the great campgrounds of Iowa. I've lived here all my life and I can't imagine that ever happening.
I have a lot in common with Gilbert. He lit his house on fire, and I apparently attempted to light my house on fire when I was a toddler. We both have a soft spot for skanks. And we both have younger brothers that are mentally disabled.
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MTIAWWIFABIKOEATBNWTWTA-When Harry Met Sally

This movie is almost indefensible. On the surface, it would appear there is no reason I would waste any time watching When Harry Met Sally. It has no car chases, it's not terribly funny (just like every other romantic comedy), and there is zero nudity. It might be the gold standard of chick flicks. So why in the hell do I watch it?

I did a lot of soul searching about this one. Sure, I like Billy Crystal but there are an awful lot of his movies that I have no interest in. Exhibit A-City Slickers 2. In the end, I think there is only one reason I like this movie. Meg Ryan. She looks fantastic in this movie. So why did she choose to go full frontal nudity in that crappy movie "In the Cut" while dressing almost nunlike in When Harry Met Sally? By the time she did "In the Cut" she'd had entirely too much plastic surgery and looked like she belonged in a freak show. Seriously, if she'd allow herself to age gracefully she'd still look good. Now she frightens small children.
Hopefully admitting my crush on 30-year-old Meg Ryan allows me to keep my man card despite liking "When Harry Met Sally."
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Movies that I always watch when I'm flipping around but I'm kind of embarrassed about them because nobody wastes time watching them anymore

This might become a recurring post because it has such a catchy title. For short, I'll just refer to it as MTIAWWIFABIKOEATBNWTWTA. First up is a movie I watched a good chunk of over the weekend, Gross Pointe Blank.

This is a truly outstanding dark comedy. John Cusack plays Martin Blank who is professional killer, but he's starting to lose his taste for it. He returns home to his 10-year high school reunion and tries to re-kindle his relationship with Debbie (I forget her last name and I'm too lazy to look it up), played by Minnie Driver. There's a million reasons why I like this movie, but here's a few:
1. I like the idea of going my high school reunion and telling everyone I'm a professional killer, only to have none of them believe me.
2. Martin's home got bulldozed and replaced with a convenience store. I think I'd be ok with that. And his best friend from high school brokered the deal.
3. I might have a bit of a mancrush on John Cusack.
4. Martin kills a dude with a television.

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From ABBA to football

As any younger sibling is prone to do, Zach likes to do what his older sisters do. Unfortunately, that has led him to watching Mama Mia! over and over and listening to ABBA. We drove to Des Moines last weekend and we spent entirely too much time listening to ABBA while Zach attempted to sing along. He butchered "Dancing Queen," but what do you expect from a two-year-old. Not only does he listen to ABBA, but he gets pissed when we change the CD to something that doesn't suck.

I was starting to feel like there was no hope for him. He was destined to do whatever his sisters wanted him to do, instead of being a sports-crazed meathead like me. Well, I got a breif glimmer of hope last night. The women of the house left so Zach and I had the place to ourselves. After we finished a dinner of mostly meat products, he turned to me and said "Watch TV football Daddy." Granted, there was no live football on tv on a Tuesday night in August, but we did find a classic college football game between Purdue and Notre Dame. Zach fell asleep after about a half hour, but who could blame him. Notre Dame makes me sleepy also.
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Breaking (well, maybe just spraining) news

I've spent at least 12 minutes researching this, and it appears djsfunnypages is the only major news outlet to realize today is the 5th anniversary of the opening of Jordan Creek Town Center in Des Moines. Typically for malls, the 5th anniversary is a big deal. Just like wedding anniversaries are paper for 1st, silver for 25th, viagara for 50th, and "DEAR GOD, WHY WON'T YOU DIE ALREADY!!" for 75th, malls have special traditions. The 5th malliversary (the surest sign of truly great writing is making up words)is the balloon animal anniversary.

I think this is the start of big things for me. Not sure what kind of things, but rest assured they will be big. Breaking news like this will surely get me recognized. Maybe I'll get linked by deadspin or TMZ. Or, dare I say it, google. Soon I'll be the first blogger to interview Micheal Jackson's corpse (too soon?). And who do I have to thank for this? Me. All me. And Kathy, as she confirmed that even the crappy local paper hadn't picked on this story.
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Catching up

I'll admit it, I've been a delinquent blogger lately. I'm busy at work due to budget season and the summer class I'm taking is fairly time consuming. It involves running a fake company through a simulation. Every week we have to make decisions on investing, brands, sales channels, production, advertising, etc. I've enjoyed the class and we're coming to the end of the simulation. We're in first place (it's also a competition among 4 teams) and as long as the engineers in my group don't come up with too many more ridiculous ideas we should win.

So here's the rundown of what's gone on since I left you slightly aroused after my visit to the watch repair hottie.
-We took a family trip to Adventureland with a group of 12. We had a great time, and anytime you leave there without motion sickness it's a victory.
-My wife picked up my newly repaired watch. She reads this blog also.
-I got bit by a dog. I won't go into great detail as there is nothing terribly funny about it. I also don't want to turn this into a rant about people not controlling their pets.
-I got a tetanus shot due to the bullet point above.
-I went to my hometown county fair. Two of my nephews show animals and I've been meaning to get there for several years but never made it. The fair tried a new marketing ploy this year. They raised the price for adult admission, charged only $1 for kids under 11, and let the kids ride the rides for free. I determined there is a downside to this. It's really hard to drag the kids away from free rides. If I had to pay, I would have told them ahead of time how many rides they would get to go on and we would go home when they were done. And since they know I'm cheap, they wouldn't have fought it. Instead, I was there from 10am to 8:30pm. At least some things never change. The carnies are still several teeth short of a full set and a few bricks short of a load. They still have all the typical carnie games, although the prizes have changed. We used to win a a goldfish if we could throw a ping pong ball into one of the tiny fishbowls. Now they award you a blowup fish with mouth that strongly resembles a part of the female anatomy. Not to give it away, but the part I'm referring to rhymes with angina. I think I like the blowup fish better than the real one. And yes, I've been waiting this entire post to get to mention the fish.
-One final tidbit. My middle child lost a tooth yesterday. She put it under her pillow in her room, but she slept on the floor of the family room with a friend. The tooth fairy didn't visit last night, but I have to give Abby credit for trying. She tried to fool the tooth fairy into thinking she was in bed by putting some pillows under the covers in the shape of her body.
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The Perverts Guide to Watch Repair

I'm going to warn the four people that might read this. The funniest part of this post is probably the title. I wasn't really planning on a post about my trip to the local mall to get a new watch battery, but once I thought up the title I knew I'd have to write about it.

Last night I went to the mall to get a new battery in my Fossil Hawkeye watch. I really like the watch, the problem is it has two batteries so it seems like I'm always replacing one. The recently deceased battery powered the hands, the other battery powers the LCD display. I arrived at the mall around 8:15 and wandered to center court where all the jewelry stores are located. I went past The Watch Company (I know it's the obvious choice, but they screwed up the last time I had them replace a battery) and continued to Fred Meyer Jewelers as I knew they had a fairly large watch selection.
As I walked up to Fred Meyer a girl in a silk fuschia shirt with one too many buttons undone looked up and smile at me. I knew immediately we were going to have a long term relationship. I privately cursed myself for not dressing up to her standards. I gave her my watch and explained that it needed a new battery. She generously leaned over the counter and I discovered she was wearing a bra that matched her shirt. Things were pointing up. I mean looking up.
She took my watch to the back and started working on it. About 15 minutes later she came back out with my watch. Since we had developed a connection I sensed immediately things weren't going well. She asked if I was sure it was the battery. I also noticed the display wasn't working anymore. I informed her the watch had two batteries, after I finished looking down her shirt again. She went back to work, emerging another 10 minutes later. Now the hands were working, but the display was still dark. She said she had replaced both batteries, and I pointed out when I had arrived the display worked. I sensed our relationship was receiving it's first major test.
She spent another 10 minutes on the watch (I told you this was a long-term relationship) and the display still wasn't working. I was starting to question her watch fixing abilities. She offered to send it to the watch repair guy and I initially resisted. But she's persuasive so I let her send it in after she informed me it was free of charge. She took down my information, then I realized her ulterior motive. She had broken my watch on purpose so she could get my phone number. Maybe this relationship still has a chance.
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The early bird gets...

I've always thought of myself as having an appreciation of nature. I don't hug trees and pet grass, but I do enjoy being outdoors. This time of year I like to sleep with the windows open to get some fresh air. The problem I'm having lately is the great outdoors is a lot louder than usual.

We live next to a lot of open area so there are a lot of birds. The problem with is the birds get up really early. The last few mornings they are screaming at me by about 5 o'clock. You didn't read that wrong, these birds are screaming. It sounds like they are being violently raped right outside my window. I fully expect to open the shades to see a homeless guy or a raccoon violating a sparrow.
So there you go, the early bird gets gang raped. And that's why I sleep in.
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What marriage is really like

I can't believe it's been almost a month since I posted anything. Time flies when you're having fun, and it flies even faster when you're spending 4 nights a week watching softball. Just a couple weeks left and then our life might resume some kind of normalcy. Then again, maybe not. Normalcy isn't all that popular around here. Anyway, my real reason for posting today has nothing to do with softball. This is the actual transcript of a conversation I recently had with my wife:

Wife: Where’d you put my cell phone charger?
Me: I didn’t move it.
Wife: I always leave my charger on the counter. You must have moved it when you moved the laptop.
Me: (blank stare)
Wife: You need to be more careful with my stuff. If I lost your charger you’d be pissed. I HATE YOU!!! I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN!!
Me: What just happened?
Wife: AARRRGH!!!
Me: (silently planning my escape)
Wife: Oh, never mind. I brought my charger upstairs last weekend. It’s right there.
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Zach gives 'em hell

People that refer to a 2-year-old as being in the "terrible twos" don't know what they're talking about. In my humble opinion, it is a great age for a kid. Two-year-olds have a limited vocabulary and not much attitude. Zach will occasionally drive me crazy by yelling "DaDa!" for a half hour straight, but he makes up for it by being a complete goofball.

Just recently Zach discovered his new favorite song. We're not the type of family that only listen to children's music, we tend to bounce around top 40 stations. We were listening to the "Gives you hell" by the All-American Rejects recently and Zach picked up on the tune. Unfortunately, he couldn't keep up to the words and understand them very well. He did, however, understand "hell" and now he sings that word every chance he gets. Of course, he's still behind so he's saying "hell" a couple seconds late. Like I always say, there's nothing cuter than a toddler that swears.
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And the hits just keep on coming

My oldest daughter's issues with balance are well-documented. A better blogger would be able to post a link to it, but ever time I try to do it I screw it up. I'll just tell you it was sometime last year.
Mady had her first softball game of the year last night. She's moved up a division this year (we had to lie to do it) so there are other girls pitching to her. That alone is a bit funny.

A 9-11 year-old trying to pitch windmill-style is mildly entertaining. One of the girls pitched behind the batter more times than in front. Mady didn't pitch in this game, which is just as well as we haven't practiced that skill very much. She didn't have much luck at the plate, but she did field a couple grounders cleanly. The real story was on the way home. Mady was jawing with her sister and basically trying to pick a fight. She swatted at her sister with her ball glove and then started jogging down the sidewalk. She got about 50 yards and then BAMM!! she ran right into a truck. Not a truck in motion, just one that was parked slightly in the sidewalk. I have no idea how she didn't see it. I mean, it's a frigging truck. Now granted, it was a half-ton pickup and not a semi, but still.
I peeled her off the sidewalk and determined that mostly just her pride was hurt. Tonight we had another softball game for her sister, Abby. She didn't hit another truck on the way home. There was a pickup truck in the same driveway, except it was white. I told Mady she must have hit the truck so hard that she knocked the paint off it.
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Vegas trip report-April 2009 Day 3

As expected, the next morning dawned with me residing in Hangovertown. It wasn’t the type of hangover I could kill with ibuprofen, I was going to have to wait this one out. I was on a strict water diet for the morning. Shortly before noon the F’s came to our room and we headed down to the pool. They didn’t appear to be nearly as hung over as I was, even though they were out later the night before. They said Coyote Ugly sucked (big surprise) but Rok was decent. Mr. F thought he was still drunk from the night before, which is probably the only reason he wasn’t hung over.

I laid by the pool for awhile and started to feel better. After letting my stomach settle for an hour before deciding I needed something to eat and the food at the pool wasn’t a good idea. I set off down the strip after checking if I’d won any sports bets from the previous day (I hadn’t) and decided I could handle Subway. I ate half there, the other half while watching the fountains at Bellagio, and I was feeling better. My next stop was Ceasar’s as a friend had asked me to place a sports bet and the odds were better there than NYNY. I played some video poker there, won a little, and headed back to the hotel. I was feeling pretty sure I needed a nap.
I slept for maybe 30 minutes before the wife came back from the pool. The F’s had set off down the strip already and were going to call us when they wanted to meet up. Shortly after the wife arrived, the F’s called from Hawaiian Tropic. We met up with them there and despite the amount of alcohol they had consumed in the previous 2 days, they weren’t done yet. Apparently, they needed to celebrate the purchase of the Louis Vuitton bag. I thought I was done so I stuck with water. We hung out there for awhile before continuing north on the strip. We grabbed some cheap Corona from Bill’s and decided on Margaritaville for dinner. I gave in to peer pressure and had a better than average margarita with the mountain of nachos we ordered. The nachos were decent, but nothing spectacular. The only impressive attribute was their size. The wife and I split the nachos (with plenty left over) while the F’s each had something in the salad family.
We went back to the hotel and turned in early as we had booked a 7:30AM flight.
The flight home was quiet, as early flights from Las Vegas typically are. The group of party girls were on the flight and it appeared they had partied themselves out. One of them had a very unfortunate sunburn on half of her face. My guess is she fell asleep/passed out in the sun on Sunday. Mr. F finally sobered up on the flight home, which is good since he drove to the airport.
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Vegas trip report-April 2009 Day 2

I had an absolutely putrid night of sleep that first night. I woke up at 4 am with a headache that seemed to be more cold than hangover. I dosed off and on until 6, then gave up. I got dressed and went downstairs to cash in a parlay ticket I had won the night before. My first bet, and I was already ahead $26. Then I got a players card (I had forgotten mine at home) which was loaded with $25 of free play. I sat down at a 100 hand video poker machine and proceeded to play .05/hand on 100 hands. I got a few decent hands and cashed out $35 ahead. I got my only gambling drink while I played, I ordered an orange juice (without the vodka) as my headache was going away and I didn’t want it to return. Yeah, I know I’m a weenie.

My next stop was over at Excalibur, home to the greatest donut chain store in history. Of course, I’m speaking of Krispy Kreme. I picked up a dozen and went back to our room. I scared the crap out of my wife upon my return. She a) didn’t know I was gone b)didn’t have any idea what time it was c)didn’t remember we were in Vegas and d)didn’t know her husband was so hot. I explained to her who I was and where we were until she grew disinterested in my explanation and had a donut. We got ready and headed out to the strip late that morning.
The wife had picked up some nasty blisters on her feet the night before (I’m not sure how many times I’ve told her to bring tennis shoes to Vegas, but she never listens. Maybe that’s because she doesn’t remember me.) so we didn’t walk far. We meandered around and settled on Fatburger for lunch. Neither of us had ever had a Fatburger and we felt like we lesser people because of it. They have good, but not great burgers. I would rank Red Robin significantly above Fatburger, and on par with In-N-Out Burger. Fatburger did have some great theater that particular lunch hour. A customer and the attendant got into a heated debate about an order. Normally, this would have been an argument that could have been settled in 30 seconds or less. I didn’t have my stopwatch out, but they went at it for at least 10 minutes. The attendant left the counter twice, I assume it was to grab a cigarette to calm herself. I wasn’t too worried about the wait, it was fairly obvious the kitchen was running behind so I could either wait at the counter and be entertained or wait at a table near some screaming kids and my amnesiac wife.
We finished lunch and still hadn’t heard from the F’s, who were supposed to call us when the got up. We went back to our room, and no sooner got settled in when they called to tell us they were at Hawaiian Tropic in Planet Hollywood. We trekked to PH and grabbed a couple 2-for-1 drink coupons on the way. We had a drink each and assumed we would only have to pay for one (they were $13 each, so it was going to feel like paying for two anyway). The check came, and we were charged for both. Apparently, one person has to have both drinks to get one free. Since we were already locked in to paying $26 for drinks, we ordered a couple more.
I had noticed Blondie’s in Planet Hollywood had an all-you-can-drink happy hour from 3-6pm for $20. Considering what drinks cost at Hawaiian Tropic, this was a steal. Mr. F assumed we could only get the cheapest beer on tap, and he was half right. We could get any Bud product or well drink for our $20. We arrived at 3:45, so we immediately set out to make up for lost time. The womenfolk joined us a half hour later, apparently they had seen something shiny in a store window and had to stop and look. Blondie’s turned out to be a good choice. Drinks were reasonable and the wings were above average. We made friends with a couple girls sitting at the next table. They were probably in their mid-twenties and they immediately attracted the attention of some losers. A group of about 5 men tried to pick them up despite it being incredibly obvious that the girls were too young and pretty to want anything to do with a bunch of old dorks. I’m usually not too harsh on guys trying to pick up girls because I’ve been there before. The thing is, these guys were 15-20 years older than the girls and one of them was wearing glasses straight out of Revenge of the Nerds. Mrs. F went over to talk to them after they had ditched the dirty old men and told them they need to signal us if they need help.
After happy hour was over, we headed back to the hotel to get ready for the evening. I made reservations for the Voodoo Steakhouse and our plan was to go up to the Lounge after dinner. We grabbed a cab and made our way to the Rio. The wife and I looked like average tourists, while Mr and Mrs. F looked like Richard Gere and Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. Mr. F bears a striking resemblance to Richard Gere, and Mrs. F occasionally dresses like a hooker so the analogy fits.
Unfortunately, the Voodoo Steakhouse was incredibly average. We had a couple bottles of wine, Mr. F and I had steak while the wife had fish. I can’t recall what Mrs. F had, I think it was shrimp. We spent $180 for a dinner that I could get in Iowa for $60. We went upstairs after dinner to the Voodoo Lounge.
To be honest, I didn’t know much about the Voodoo Lounge before we got there. I knew it was on the top of the Rio and had a patio. Based on what I knew about nightclubs in general I had a pretty good idea about what I was getting into. The club was loud, the only way we could sit down was if we paid large sum of money, and the drinks were going to make our $6 bottles of beer look cheap. Mr. F ordered a drink for himself and Mrs. F, then turned to my wife and asked if she wanted a fishbowl drink. She said no, which naturally meant yes to him. I watched the bartender pour a substantial amount of alcohol into something that looked to be the size of a punch bowl. I found out later it contained approximately 14 shots. My wife isn’t a big drinker, so I spent the rest of the night downing a fish tank of alcohol. Don’t get me wrong, my wife helped drink it. I think she ate three ice cubes. The best part of the Voodoo Lounge was the people watching. A couple very attractive go-go dancers were there, and 2 couples that really liked each other. And they made sure everyone knew how much they liked each other. After Mr. and Mrs. F finished their drink and I was swimming in alcohol, we snagged a cab and headed back to NYNY.
I don’t recall much about the ride back, except I seem to remember Mrs. F asking the cab driver if she smelled like a stripper. I’m not sure how the topic came up, but I do remember being too drunk to keep my mouth shut. Mr. and Mrs. F wanted to go to Coyote Ugly (I forewarned them it was full of dirty old men in waiting hoping to see a bartender dance provocatively) while the wife and I turned in.
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Vegas trip report-April 2009

Yes, I know. We just returned from our second trip to Las Vegas in 4 months. So in answer to your questions, no we’re still not tired of it and yes, we are addicted. Sometimes I think it would be cheaper to have a cocaine habit than a Vegas habit.

Our most recent trip to fabulous Las Vegas was my 6th, the wife’s 4th, and the first trip for the couple we went with. In keeping with tradition of nick naming our traveling companions, I will refer to them as Mr. and Mrs. Fancypants (you’ll find out why in a bit). Mr. and Mrs. F for short.
We booked the trip about 2 months ago for 3 nights. We were originally going to stay at the Flamingo until I received a comparable offer from New York New York. None of us had ever stayed at NYNY, but I’ve always liked the hotel. We flew Allegiant Air (motto: settting the standard in extra charges). We had about a 2 hour drive to the airport. There is an airport closer, but the tickets were about twice as much so we opted for the extra drive. I had planned on driving, until Mr. F pulled up and announced he was driving. That wasn’t what set me back when they pulled up. What surprised me was his attire. He was wearing jeans, tennis shoes, a button down shirt, and a suit jacket. I naturally assumed we must be stopping at a funeral on the way to the airport. I was wrong, apparently the reason for the suit jacket was it wouldn’t fit in his carryon. I had no such problem as I don’t make it a practice of wearing a suit unless I absolutely have to. What really bugged me was it looked perfectly natural on him. If I dressed like that, I’d look like a homeless guy that had just stolen a tuxedo jacket from a drunken groomsman.
The flight was typical, there were 3 couples getting married and a group of college girls hell-bent on celebrating a 21st birthday by getting obliterated for their entire trip. Mr. F talked me into taking a limo to the hotel because it wouldn’t be considerably more than a cab per person. I concurred, on our last trip the fare to Flamingo was $25 for two of us so for 4 it might be around $30 to NYNY compared to $40 for a limo. This might not have been a great decision. Our limo driver got stuck in traffic on Tropicana (maybe taking a back way might have been faster?) so it took almost 30 minutes to get the hotel.
Check in was quick at the hotel as we got to use the fancy “Invited Guests” line, which comes complete with 2 square feet of red carpet. We couldn’t get on the same floor as the F’s, they were on the floor above us. As part of the offer, we were upgraded to the Park Avenue rooms. I’m afraid to see how small the regular Skyline rooms are as the Park Avenue rooms are approximately the size of a broom closet. The décor is dark and the shades completely block out the sun, apparently in an effort to help guests sleep off hangovers.
We tossed our luggage in the room and met up with the F’s to go walk the strip. The wife and I were starving, so we grabbed a hot dog and a pretzel before we left the hotel. It was about 4pm local time and they hadn’t had a drink since lunch, so naturally they were parched. Mr. F picked Smith & Wollensky’s for our first stop, probably because it was the first place he saw that served alcohol. We had appetizers and a round and a half of drinks (2 for the F’s, 1 for the wife and I) and the total came to just over $100. Luckily, I had taken out a second mortgage to pay for this trip. Also, Mr. F picked up the majority of the tab. We left S & W and continued north. We stopped at Bellagio for a fountain show (surprisingly enough, it wasn’t Celine Dion) and walked through the conservatory. The next stop was the Forum Shops, where Mrs. F tried to talk Mr. F into buying her a Louis Vuitton bag. My wife didn’t even try as she doesn’t enjoy talking to a brick wall.
At this point it had been a couple hours since our last drink so we stopped at Carnival Court outside Harrah’s. Some old dude that looked like a cross between Ron Jeremy and Gene Simmons was belting out audience requests on his tricked out karaoke machine. We had a couple rounds there, and I tried to hide my surprise that domestic bottles were running $6 each. We left as he attempted to screech “God Bless America,” partly because of his singing and partly because a couple in their fifties (sixties?) was making out next to us. I don’t have a problem with some public displays of affection, but this crossed the line. I was about ready to throw them oxygen masks as they needed to come up for air. We wandered south, and wouldn’t you know it the fountain show was “God Bless America.” I guess I was destined to hear it that night.
We wandered through Paris, then picked up some provisions at Walgreens. I dropped our purchases off at the room and we went to the bar outside Coyote Ugly. I hesitate to refer to it as a bar as there are no walls, it just sits in the walkway next to the crappy etched glass kiosk. We had a couple drinks there and called it a night as it was after midnight by then.
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Sound financial advice from a 9-year old

My oldest daughter recently celebrated her 9th birthday. Along with the usual crap load of Hanna Montana junk, she received some cash. Yesterday, completely unprompted, she informed me that she wanted to invest it. I naturally got a little misty, as it seems obvious she has inherited my financial skills.
She asked what I like to invest in, and I showed her my rapidly dwindling stock portfolio. It still impressed her, but she's 9. It doesn't take a very big number to impress her. I explained to her how stocks work, what dividends are, and what a P/E ratio is. I knew how much money she had, so I had an idea that she might only want to invest $40-$50. I then asked her what her price range was, and she replied "$2-$3 a share." And she informed me she only wants 2 shares. Luckily, in this economic environment $2-$3 will get you the controlling interest in GM.
We started doing some stock screening, and came up with a list of 80 stocks that were valued less than $5, had a dividend yield of greater than 4%, and a P/E less than 20. Naturally, the list was primarily companies she had never heard of. I was hoping for at least one that would make sense to her. Then I found Books-A-Million (BAMM).
I haven't pulled the trigger on BAMM yet. I can't allow her to spend more on transaction costs than the stock is worth. Maybe I'll buy some shares with her to absorb the transaction costs. Either that or I'll talk her into buying a lot more shares on margin. No one has ever gotten in trouble doing that.
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Thanks for dying for our sins, we're going to Vegas

I recently booked a trip to Vegas. A couple friends of ours said they wanted to go and that's all the reason we need to take a long weekend in Sin City. We batted dates back and forth, hoping to go in May but my schedule got in the way. We settled on a weekend in April that worked for the four of us and I booked the flight.

I woke at up 5:00 the morning after booking the flight. I don't normally wake up that early, but I started doing the math and realized we had booked our Vegas trip for Easter. My wife's family doesn't really celebrate Easter, but my somewhat devout Catholic family does. So now everyone has one more reason to believe I'm going to hell.
I was more concerned about our friends. I had told them the date and they had agreed, but what if they were pissed? After all, they hadn't reimbursed me yet and I didn't like the idea of eating their airfare. They were fine with it, so the only fallout is I feel like an idiot for not being a little more careful when selecting dates. That's ok, I'm fairly used to it.
The good news is all 4 people that follow my blog will be treated to another Vegas trip report. To be perfectly honest, I have no idea how this trip will turn out. We haven't traveled with this couple before. We know they drink a lot more than we do. He doesn't particularly care to gamble, while that's my sole purpose for going. Neither are very interested in shows (although he wants to see a topless review), while my wife will try to cram 8 shows into 3 days.
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You're out of what?!

I went to the local mall last weekend to do some shopping. I went to the food court first to get some dinner. I went to Arby's the get a roast beef sandwich and fries. I ordered and the clerk responded, and I quote, "We ran out of roast beef. It'll be 20 minutes before we have any more." Now I can see running out right before close. I don't think it's acceptable, but I can see how it might happen on a rare occasion. However, I ordered at 6:45 PM. Also, it's roast beef. It's what Arby's is known for. For my money, it's the only thing worth ordering.

This got me thinking about other things we will never run out of (but maybe we should).
Arby's running out of roast beef is like...
Congress running out of incompetence..
Christian Bale running out of unwarranted anger..
Bono running out of self-righteousness..
Tom Cruise running out of crazy..
Pepsi running out of new versions of Mountain Dew..
Las Vegas running out of prostitutes..
AIG running out of ways to flush taxpayer money down the toilet..
and finally...
Iowa State University running out of sheep to dress up as women and molest..

Ok, so maybe that last one went to far...but probably not.
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Softball Preview

With spring rapidly approaching, our attention is turning toward outdoor activities. We recently signed up the girls to play softball this summer. Mady, who's almost 9, is playing in her second season. Last year she started out fast by getting hits in her first 4 or 5 at-bats, then went into a slump, and finished strong. She's excited to play again, which is to be expected since she's always excited to play sports. Then there's Abby.

We were set to have Abby play basketball this winter. Then I tried to pass her the ball in the living room and it became very obvious that she wasn't ready. Instead of catching it, she bats it away. I decided to give it another year and maybe she'll be ready next winter. Either that, or she needs to play volleyball where slapping the ball away is perfectly acceptable.
Softball for Abby could be brutal. Most 7-year-olds aren't good at it, but I got a sneak peek of what it'll be like last night. She was sitting at the table while I got her a plastic cup. I told her I was going to throw it, because a)she needs to work on catching and b)it weighs 2 oz. so it can't possibly hurt her. I lofted it to her and it hit her square in the forehead. Her hands never made a move to catch it, and she didn't duck out of the way. She started crying and I consoled her. And that's what softball will be like this summer.
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In-Digest-ion

You can stop wondering why it's been so long since I posted. I've spent the last 10 days thinking up a great title for a post about Reader's Digest. And yes, I am disappointed in myself. I should have been able to do better.
Reader's Digest has one of the highest circulations of any magazine. We have a subscription, although I have no idea why. I think we got it free with the purchase of a tube of toothpaste.

My problems with Reader's Digest are multiple and far-reaching. For starters, the name is generic. It should be called Obvious Advice for the Functionally Retarded. An article in the current issue tells you "Thirteen Things Your Grocer Won't Tell You." I think the reason your grocer won't tell you these things is because they are all common sense. Seriously, who doesn't know that the grocery store is less crowded at dinnertime? Or that if you want to avoid shopping cart dents you should park far away? Not to mention their invaluable advice about produce. Apparently the familiar produce turns over more often than exotic produce. I can't believe I survived this long without this earth-shattering advice.
You don't have to read the Digest very long to determine they really like advertisements. I counted the pages of advertisements in the most recent issue and there were a whopping 63 pages of advertisements. The Digest utilizes midget-sized pages so the magazine is 196 pages long. Nonetheless, almost a third of the magazine is advertising. The bulk of the advertising is geared toward pharmaceuticals as the average age of a Digest readers is 92.
Reader's Digest makes an occasional attempt at being funny. Not that I'm the foremost expert on humor, but I can identify when something is not funny. Here's an example of being not funny. There is a cartoon of a chicken panhandling holding a sign that reads "All my eggs were in one basket." Can you imagine anyone finding that funny?
Maybe I just don't get Reader's Digest. Maybe it's all sarcasm and the joke is on all the geriatrics that laugh their asses off at chicken cartoons. Maybe I shouldn't rip them, and instead encourage everyone to buy toothpaste for the free subscription.
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Bad Basketball Saturday

I had the pleasure of witnessing a double-header of unwatchable basketball last Saturday. I started the day off with a girls basketball game between 3rd and 4th grade girls. I'm the assistant coach for my daughter's team, so I'm partially to blame for the entertainment value of the team. The saving grace of the team is a pair of identical twins that can absolutely dominate off the dribble.

My daughter tries really hard, but sometimes even good effort can be difficult to watch. For about four straight possessions, I watched her overplay the passing lane and give up the easiest back door baskets you'll ever see. I've got a pretty good idea what we're going to be practicing next week.
The second half of the double-header was the Iowa-Northwestern game. This one was even harder to watch since the first, as Iowa-Northwestern is annually some of the most putrid basketball on the planet. Several minutes of research has led me to the conclusion that the highest rate of suicides in the U.S. are during Iowa-Northwestern basketball games. Iowa managed to play the entire first half without making a 2-point basket. They made 7 3-pointers and a few free throws, while turning the ball over roughly 84 times. Luckily, Northwestern was offensively impotent. They have some dude that weighs 480 pounds and misses shots from 6 inches when he's not busy trying to foul out so he can eat a doughnut. And he was their best post presence until he got sent to the pine for a dozen Krispy Kremes.
The second half was equally gut wrenching. Iowa's shooting cooled down, but they turned the ball over less. Northwestern warmed up a bit, but the Hawks held on to win the game that neither team seemed to want to win. I had several drinks afterward in the hopes of forgetting the horrors I had seen that day.
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Tupperware sucks

At the risk of alienating the 4 people that occasionally follow this blog, I'm going to take some away from poop jokes and talk about Tupperware. When I was growing up, Tupperware was all the rage. It had a funny design on the lid and when you pushed on the center it sealed with a satisfying burp. It cost a little more, but it had a lifetime warranty and that's all it takes to sell my mother.

Recently, my wife determined we needed some Tupperware. She was looking for some huge storage bowls, something in the range of 85 quarts. She had no problem finding something to meet her needs as Tupperware specializes in over-sized storage containers. When she bought the 562 piece set she's always been looking for, the Tupperware lady told her she may need to heat the lids to get them to fit the first time. Personally, this would have been a red flag. The effing lids should fit right out of the box. It wasn't a red flag for her, she happily forked over close to $15,000 (but they're guaranteed for LIFE!!) and eagerly awaited their arrival.
The bowls arrived and my wife immediately put a bowl the size of a garbage can to work. We have something green and leafy (I think it's called salad?) at almost every meal. She decided we could use the huge bowl to hold a couple bags of salad and it would keep fresh for several days. And sure enough, the first time the lid didn't fit. I ran it under hot water for a couple minutes and managed to force it on. The next time I went to put away the salad, the lid didn't fit. Or the next time. Or the next time. I've now used several thousand gallons of hot water and multiple obscenities to temporarily stretch this damn lid. But at least I'm not letting it get to me.
I'll try to get back to my normal inane babble soon. That is, assuming I can get the salad put away.
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Video games and socialism

Maybe it's a bit childish, but I still enjoy playing video games. We've owned a Nintendo Wii for a year and it's by far the best video game system I've ever played. One of my favorite games to play on the Wii is MarioKart. It suits my short attention span and it doesn't take long to figure out. You just drive faster than everyone else. Each race only last about 3 minutes, which is perfect for me because that's exactly how long my kids can go without misbehaving.

The problem I have with MarioKart is it's blatant socialist agenda. Ok, so maybe it's not obvious to everyone so I'll explain. While playing the game you run into floating boxes that give you some type of power. Some make you invincible for 10-15 seconds, some give you a speed burst, some give you banana peels to throw at other drivers and makes them spin out. I wouldn't have a problem with the game if the powers were completely random. You see, the farther behind you are the better power you get. Likewise, if you're way ahead you don't get crap for special powers. When you're stinking it up, you often get a power that turns you into a bullet. For 15 seconds you go 3 times faster than anyone and you don't even have to steer. The socialist developers of MarioKart want to insure that no matter how bad you are at the game, you always have a chance to win. Whatever happened to sucking at a game and getting beaten like a rented mule every time you play? Sure, it's not as fun to always lose, but we're a competitive, capitalist society and that's how we roll.
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Mitch King gets even better

One of my favorite sites, collegefootballnews.com, released their All-Conference and All-American teams recently. Virtually every other organization that creates All-Conference teams release them immediately after the regular season. I'm guessing they wait to publish it because they are trying to fill up the 8-month off season. As expected, Shonn Greene was the Offensive Player of the Year in the Big 10. I naturally expected James Laurinaitis to get Defensive Player of the Year since he has received that honor by most publications. I've always thought Laurinaitis was a bit over-rated. I think he gets a pass because his father was a pro wrestler and because his last name sounds like a disease you could catch from a toilet seat in Tijuana.

The guys at collegefootballnews.com surprised me by naming Mitch King the Defensive Player of the Year. They also named him the 3rd best player in the Big 10, regardless of position (following Shonn Greene and Javon Ringer). Here's the link to the story http://cfn.scout.com/2/829441.html
On a side note, I wish I was over-rated. I think being over-rated can be directly linked to being over-paid, which is never a bad thing. So effective immediately, I'm changing my last name to smallpox and I'm going to talk my father about professional wrestling.
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It's all Mike's fault

I feel like crap today. It’s not just me, at least 3 other people also feel like crap. I know exactly where to place the blame, it’s all Michael Jackson’s fault.

One evening last week while we were eating dinner I told our younger daughter, Abby, that if she didn’t eat her meat she wouldn’t get desert. That lead me to quote Pink Floyd’s song The Wall, informing her that she wouldn’t have any pudding if she doesn’t eat her meat. This brought on some curious looks and eye rolling from the kids, so I explained my Pink Floyd reference. After dinner, I fired up YouTube so they could see what I was talking about. That led me to show them other songs from my youth, namely some of Michael Jackson’s hits off the Thriller album. I also found a video of Jackson doing the moonwalk. Mady and Abby were enthralled by it, and I mentioned that our friend TJ knows how to do the moonwalk. That immediately led to inquiries about when could we invite him over so he could teach them. We contacted them and made plans to have dinner last night.

The invite list started ballooning from there. My wife’s cousin, Bud, is good friends with TJ. Bud and his family live in about 2 hours away, but we thought he might want to come over. Then our friends from down the street mentioned that we haven’t hung out in awhile. We figured the more the merrier, so we invited them also. Here’s how our invite list breaks down:

Bud and Megan: Bud is my wife’s cousin, Megan is his wife. We have a close family connection with them. They brought their 3 yr old daughter, Emilia.

TJ and Kim: TJ is one of Bud’s best friends, and has vicariously become one of our best friends. Kim is his wife, they are newlyweds. Little know fact-the name TJ is Old English and means “arms like an alligator.”

Monica and Jim: Longtime friends, they live a block from us and Sarah provides daycare for them. I used to work for Monica and she’s the meanest boss ever. They brought their girls Taylor (7) and Ashley (4).

With the invite list as it stood, a few thoughts went through my head. Whenever Bud and TJ are in the same place you can count of several things happening. First, there will be a wrestling match. Don’t ask me why, as I’ve never felt compelled to wrestle any of my friends. Second, there will be a sports related argument. Here is my interpretation of the ground rules for the debate:

1. Whoever talks loudest has the upper hand.

2. It is important to quote statistics, but it’s not important for them to be correct.

3. If you feel like you’re losing, start wrestling.

The last thing you can count on with Bud and TJ is heavy drinking. And the more alcohol consumed, the number of arguments and wrestling matches increase exponentially.

Guests arrived at about 5, so that’s when the drinking commenced. The men sat in the family room watching football while the women sat around the kitchen table. Not long after dinner, the first wrestling match of the evening broke out. I didn’t witness (it can be a bit disturbing), but apparently the kids were involved. They ganged up on Bud and TJ and loudly claimed victory afterwards. The kids are quick studies.

We ran out of beer by about 9, so the women went on a beer run. They hadn’t been drinking much if at all, and the men were so that was probably a good move. They came back with 40s: Old English 800 for Bud and TJ and Miller Lite for Jim and me. They also bought another case and some random girly drinks.

The sport argument centered around the New England Patriots and whether or not they cheated by video taping signals. At this point Bud claimed the video looked like the Zapooter film. I not-so-gently corrected him, saying it was Zapruder. We also debated the merits of the Iowa football team this year and if they could have hung with Alabama (I was right again, I think the Hawks could have given them a helluva game).

After watching Arizona destroy Carolina, the women talked us into playing Catchphrase. They probably thought they would have a chance at beating us, since the men were all pretty wasted. They were right, they did beat us. But we were louder, so we got that going for us. We probably should have turned it into a wrestling match.

The party broke up sometime between midnight and 1. Bud, Megan, Sarah, and myself stayed up awhile longer as I like to sober up a bit before calling it a night. Not that it did me much good, I woke up with a raging hangover. As did Bud, and probably TJ and Jim. And TJ never did teach the girls how to moonwalk, so we’ll probably have to get drunk again sometime.

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Zach vs. Mitch King

My 20-month old son Zach received Mitch King jersey for Christmas. Those of you who aren't familiar with Mitch King should be ashamed of yourself. He just finished up a stellar career with the Iowa Hawkeyes after anchoring the defensive line for 4 years. He was 1st team All Big Ten, and was named Defensive Lineman of the Year in the Big Ten. Seeing Zach run around wreaking havoc in his Mitch King jersey got me thinking about how he'd stack up against the 270 pound lineman.

Mitch King: The most disruptive force in the Big Ten.
Zach: The most disruptive force at daycare
Advantage: Zach. I'd rather spend a day getting kicked around by football players than battling toddlers.

Mitch King: Causes opposing quarterbacks to crap their pants.
Zach: Craps his own pants.
Advantage: Mitch King. Even though Zach's craps can be tremendous, they can't stack up to causing a grown man to poop himself.

Zach: Weighed 10lb 12oz at birth.
Mitch King: Birth weight unknown.
Advantage: Zach. I don't know how big Mitch King was, but I bet it wasn't nearly 11 pounds. If he was that big at birth, the announcers would have told us about it every game just like they informed us Shonn Greene moved furniture last year. Also, Zach was 3 weeks early.

Mitch King: Cut his hair before the biggest game of the year and still dominated.
Zach: Dunked his head in the toilet and thought it was hilarious.
Advantage: Mitch King. Zach is a frigging idiot.

Mitch King: Speaks in tongues before games to fire up the troops.
Zach: Speaks in tongues all the time due to limited vocabulary.
Advantage: Mitch King. Again, Zach is a frigging idiot.

Zach: Head butts anything that gets in his way.
Mitch King: Butts heads with o-lineman that get in his way.
Advantage: Zach. He doesn't wear a helmet.

Zach: Smiles too much.
Mitch King: Never smiles. Was ready to tear someone apart at the pep rally before the Outback Bowl, probably for smiling at him.
Advantage: Mitch King. Smiling all the time makes Zach look like a slow kid.

Even with an obvious bias toward the fruit of my loins, Mitch King still wins a close match up. It might be a different story in 20 years.

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Knoxville Trip-Day 6

Day 6-Coming home
We left Knoxville at about 6:30am, this time with little hope that Zach would sleep. He didn’t disappoint at first, as he continued to yell Mama and Dada. He faded off sometime before Nashville, so we continued on to Clarksville for breakfast.

A lesser family would have had a coronary on the spot from eating at the Waffle House two days in a row, it only gave us indigestion. Sarah took the second leg and drove to Troy, which is just north of St. Louis. We grabbed lunch at McDonalds and were disappointed the outdoor play area was closed. It was about 45 degrees, but with the kids being cooped up for several hours they would have gladly risked frostbite to play outside. I drove the rest of the uneventful drive home. We were greeted by 20 degree temps and the knowledge that we had to go back to work in a couple days.
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Knoxville Trip-Day 5

Day 5: New Years Day at the Waffle House
It’s not a trip to the south without going to a Waffle House. We met Jennifer and Cheryl at about 10 to find the local Waffle House packed. Aparrently, this is a fairly rare occurrence. We waited about 10 minutes and then crammed the 8 of us into a booth. Luckily, a booth across the aisle from us opened up before the food arrived so we could spread out. We stuffed ourselves with cheap breakfast food and went to Cheryl’s house to watch some football. I’m a die-hard Iowa fan and they were playing South Carolina in the Outback Bowl. I was fortunate that Iowa built a lead early and put the game out of reach. If it had been close (or, perish the thought, Iowa lost) Jennifer and Cheryl would have seen a very different side of me. I tend to get a little emotional (swearing, throwing objects, etc.) when the game is tight or Iowa is losing. I kept the Mr. Hyde part of my personality in check as I thoroughly enjoyed watching the Hawks destroy South Carolina.

After the game, we toured PJ’s (Cheryl’s husband) shop. Him and his father own a shop that specializes in cars from the 50s, muscle cars, street rods, hot rods, corvettes and custom one-off creation. And yes, I pulled that description directly from their website(www.b-rodorcustom.com ). I’m not huge gear head, but I do have an appreciation for cars. I left thoroughly impressed, the work they do is really cool. They had projects in all stages and apparently weren’t struggling due to the recession. They had plenty of work to do in the forseeable future.
We went back to the condo that afternoon for our last evening in Knoxville. We (meaning Sarah) did some laundry while I packed up the mountains of crap we had brought along. I called it a night earlier than usual, as we were heading out before dawn and I knew would be driving the first leg.
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Knoxville Trip-Day 4

We had no real plans for the day. We decided to take a drive through the Smokey Mountains that afternoon before going to a New Year Eve’s party that night. We drove south through Alcoa (wouldn’t you know it, there is a huge Alcoa plant there) and Maryville (unfortunately, no Maryville plant) before climbing into the mountains. The drive isn’t terribly difficult, it’s curvy but not too steep. The route we took wound along a stream and had several places to pull over and stop. We stopped briefly twice to take pictures and wander around. The stops were brief because the temperature was hovering around freezing and we weren’t exactly dressed for cold weather.

We headed back toward Knoxville to attend a New Year’s party hosted by a couple of friends of Jennifer. The guy’s name is Keith, I don’t recall the woman’s name because I was too pre-occupied with her fantastic rack. I was fairly certain they were artificially enhanced (my suspicion was confirmed later that evening) but that didn’t stop me from being very impressed. It was a pretty standard New Years party, the kids played upstairs and the adults sat around drinking and eating. Zach managed to stay awake until midnight and was well behaved the entire night. He dropped a tremendous crap shortly after we arrived and pooped out of his diaper. Luckily we had brought pajamas along so he had something clean to change into. He ran around all night smiling at strangers and vacuuming. We could have sold him that night for a healthy profit. Instead, we headed back to the condo with all 3 of our children.
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Knoxville Trip-Day 3

Knoxville is home to a better-than-average zoo, so we decided to visit it on Tuesday. The temperature was in the 50s so we were comfortable in jackets. The zoo had all the standard residents. Zach really liked the elephants and giraffes, but the gorillas freaked him out. We determined likes large animals that are at a distance. The gorillas scared him because they were in their winter homes behind glass. Two of the gorillas were running around and coming very close to hitting the glass. Zach apparently didn’t like his odds against a 400-pound gorilla.

The zoo didn’t take us terribly long to go through. After about 3 hours we had seen everything and were ready to head out. I was glad admission is half-price during the winter. It’s normally $17 for adults and $13 for kids 2-12 so it would have cost us $60 to get in. That seems like a lot for 3 hours of entertainment, but $30 was about right. By comparison the Omaha Zoo is regularly priced at about $12 for adults and $7 for kids. Omaha has an indoor rainforest, an indoor dessert, and a huge aquarium. I’ve taken the kids to Omaha 3 times, and every time we are there for 6-8 hours and I have to talk the kids into leaving. Maybe my expectations for zoos are too high, but for something educational I like see it reasonably priced. I’ll step off my soapbox now.
Sarah, Cheryl and Jennifer wanted to go to a movie that night so I had kid duty. We had a healthy meal of leftover pizza and then played a rousing game of hide and seek. As you can imagine, playing hide and seek in a two bedroom condo is difficult. There are very few hiding places so we exhausted all the good spots in no time flat. Next, the girls wanted to play Trivial Pursuit.
I’ve always been a big fan of Trivial Pursuit, but it’s an effort in futility when playing with a 7 and 8 year old. The game was released 15 years before they were born, so we had to modify the game a bit. Anytime they landed on a piece of the pie, they automatically got it. There were also a lot of hints and clues. I was beaten soundly, but that was ok. The kids had a good time and they were ready to settle down after the game.
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Knoxville trip-Day 2

Sarah’s (the wife) favorite past-time is shopping, so that was the first order of business. We met up with Jennifer and Cheryl to get lunch and split up. We ate at the Tennessee Brewery something-something for lunch. We split the largest calzone I’ve ever seen and decided I would take the girls to the Tale of Desperaux while the womenfolk took Zach and Lydia shopping. I told Zach to stay strong and don’t fight it. Shopping trips are inevitable, just find your happy place.

The movie was better than average. It was watchable, which is more than I can say for a lot of kids films (see: Hufalump or anything with High School Musical in the title). The glrls both had $10 of their own money to spend, so I took them to a couple stores. They couldn’t decide on anything so they left empty-handed. I bought Zach a University of Tennessee football. I figure he deserved it for taking one for the team. We hung out in the library (also known as Borders) before heading back to the condo late that afternoon.
We settled on Litton’s for dinner that night. It’s a local favorite (it has to be good, Peyton Manning’s picture is on the wall) and it didn’t disappoint us. Litton’s offers huge portions of reasonably priced food. The atmosphere is a bit unusual as it becomes abundantly obvious that the restaurant has been expanded several times. The expansions appear haphazard as the décor, flooring, funishings, etc. don’t match from one room to the next. The waitstaff is great and if you’re going to Litton’s, save room for desert. You’ll be glad you did.
After stuffing our faces we retired to the condo and got ready for our next adventure, a day at the zoo.
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Family trip to Knoxville

We just returned from 6 days in Knoxville...well, ok, 4 days in Knoxville and 2 days of travel. I have to head back to work on Monday and I'm having a hard time remembering what I do for a living. I'm either a telemarketer or a shepherd..or maybe I herd telemarketers. Hopefully I'll figure it out before Monday. Here's my trip report for day one, once again proving that getting there isn't half the fun.

I got a lot of strange looks from people when I told them where we were going over our holiday break. I’d say we’re heading to Tennessee, and they would assume Nashville or Memphis. I’d correct them and say we’re going to Knoxville, and they’d ask what’s in Knoxville. I’d say “What’s not in Knoxville?” and that’s about where the conversation would end. It was probably easier that way, otherwise I’d have to explain we were visiting my wife’s “family” (they’re not technically family, they are my wife’s cousin’s cousin, if that makes any sense). The bottom line is they are hospitable, willing to put us up in their parents condo, and a lot of fun to hang out with.
We set off at 5:30 am for a 12-hour car ride with our 3 children. The girls are 8 and 7, so they are old enough to entertain themselves. They are also old enough to ask a million times how much farther. Our son is a year and a half and is not the greatest traveler. We had hoped all 3 of the children would sleep for the first few hours of the drive, and we were wrong. I made a tactical error by not taking interstate 80 as I figured going straight south would get me out of the ice faster (when Iowa is not getting mountains of snow, we get some hellacious ice storms. One went through the night before we left). The problem is I-80 is heavily travelled, so the ice was probably not as bad.
Between the weather and the kids, the first leg of our drive was torturous. We stopped in Hannibal, MO (motto: we sure hope people don’t get tired of Mark Twain) for McDonalds. I re-fueled and headed toward St. Louis. We expected light traffic through St.Louis, andwe were right. We also spotted our first Waffle House. In addition to being the gateway to the west, I’ve always felt St. Louis is the doorstep to the south. Zach was excessively loud throughout the first leg, and he continued it into our second leg. He has a limited vocabulary, it’s a lot of Mama! Dada! And everything he says has an exclamation point. He eventually faded off to sleep and once that happened we decided we needed to go as far as we could. We made it to the Kentucky/Tennessee border, opting to stop on the Kentucky side for KFC. I reasoned Kentucky Fried Chicken should be better in Kentucky than anywhere else. We stuffed ourselves with greasy chicken and the wife took over driving duties the rest of the way to Knoxville.
Our hosts in Knoxville, Jennifer and Cheryl, along with Lydia (Cheryl’s daughter) and Pappajohn’s Pizza greeted us upon our arrival. In spite of our slow start, we made to Knoxville in just over 12 hours. We ate, visited, had deep conversations about our respective family’s neurosis, and called it a night.
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