My wife’s only parenting blunder involves the potentially hazardous use of scissors.

My wife is quite nearly a perfect mother.

She worries a little more than is necessary, but this appears to be a prerequisite to mothering, and her car is littered with the detritus of tiny people, but I suspect that this will not unduly influence my children in any long-term way.

Otherwise, I have almost never objected to a single parenting decision that she has made. I find that remarkable.

 

In fact, the only objectionable parenting decision that she had made (and continues to make) is her inexplicable and slightly insane insistence on referring to scissors as “a scissor.”

Scissor is a verb. It means to “cut with scissors” or to “move one's legs back and forth in a way resembling the action of scissors.”

The noun that this verb references is scissors.

There is an ‘S” at the end of the word. 

Elysha’s made this error for as long as I’ve known her, and she is hardly to blame. I’ve heard her mother refer to scissors in the same way many times. While I’ve always found it a little strange, I’ve been able to ignore this crack in her otherwise pristine armor.

But now that impressionable minds are at risk, I’m concerned that my children will go forth into the world asking their kindergarten teachers if they can borrow “a scissor” rather than a pair of scissors.

It worries me.

In order to counteract this problem, I attempt to use the word correctly in the presence of my children as often as possible, and I always provide the correct use of the word whenever Elysha uses it incorrectly.

“Could you hand me that scissor, Matt”

“Sure, I’ll grab those scissors for you, honey. Here you go. A pair of scissors just for you. Enjoy those scissors.”

In the grand scheme of things, it’s a fairly small thing compared to the parenting mistakes that I watch people make on an almost daily basis, but as a person who makes his living with words, it’s still a concern.

The future happiness of my children is at stake.

Faking your own death as part of the proposal? Exchanging vows via Twitter? Strange, but still better than this.

A Russian man faked his own death in order to propose to his girlfriend. Alexey Bykov hired a filmmaker, makeup artists and stuntmen to create elaborate car-crash scene, then arranged to meet his girlfriend, Irena Kolokov, at the site. When she arrived, she saw him lying on the ground,  covered in blood amidst a scene of mangled cars, ambulances and smoke.

Bykov planned an elaborate hoax to show his girlfriend what life would be without him. After being told by the paramedic that he was dead, Kolokov broke down in tears. At that moment Bykov popped up and proposed.

She accepted.

_______________________

A couple in Turkey, Cengizhan Celik and Candan Canik, exchanged wedding vows via Twitter. Their officiant prompted them to say “I do” with a tweet. They responded by tweeting the Turkish word “Evet,” or “Yes,” on their iPads.

_______________________

A recent study found that almost 6 percent of wedding proposals are made over the phone.

_______________________

These marriage-related stories seem odd. At least one is possibly insane.

If any of these people came to me for advice, I would advise against these courses of action. 

But here’s the thing:

I also find these people much more interesting and far less offensive than the degree of snobbery that I see and hear in regards to weddings today.

Which is worse?

Any of the people described above or the woman who receives a wedding invitation from a friend and then phones a mutual friend in order to discuss how cheap, tacky or poorly designed the invitation is.

This happens.

Which is worse?

Any of the people described above or the recently married couple who complains to friends or family members about the inexpensive, poorly chosen or unwanted wedding gift that another friend or family member has given?

This happens. A lot.

Which is worse?

Any of the people described above or the person who criticizes a friend or family member (often behind their back) for failing to adhere to all of the marital traditions and customs of their religion or culture.

This happens. All the time.

I once ministered a pagan wedding in which the guests were required to remove their shoes and the bride was required to cut her finger with a ceremonial dagger prior to the exchange of vows in order to consecrate the ground upon which she would be married.

I once worked as a DJ at a wedding where only Celtic music could be played. The bride and groom drank from dragon-encrusted goblets and asked me to teach their guests something called The Mummer’s Dance.

I once worked as a DJ at a wedding that was delayed for almost two hours because the police dog that the bride and groom wanted included in the ceremony was delayed due to a possible drug shipment at the airport, and they refused to get married without him.

I once worked as a DJ at a backyard wedding that included a Slip ‘N Slide (used by both the bride and groom) and a hotdog cart.

After 16 years in the wedding industry as a DJ and minister, I have hundred of stories like this that I could tell. In each of these less-than-ordinary instance, I would much prefer to spend time with these kinds of people rather than the brides and grooms obsessed with ensuring that their wedding looks expensive or just like their friend’s wedding or better than their friend’s wedding or as close as possible to the celebrity wedding that they read about in People magazine a year ago.

Slicing your index finger open with a ceremonial dagger in order to drip blood on the ground is surprising to say the least, but I am always more surprised (and disgusted) by the woman who criticizes her friend’s choice of wedding gown or the man who complains about the quality of the top-shelf liquor at the reception or the bridesmaid who makes the bride’s life difficult by complaining about the dress that she’s been asked to wear.

In the wedding industry, there is nothing worse than pretentiousness, snobbery, overt opulence and the petty, hyper-critical, judgmental attitudes of people who find it impossible to imagine why anyone would ever get married in a way that is different than their own wedding day.

The search for the perfect handbag instead uncovers a small herd of vapid, mindless, disgusting sheep.

The Wall Street Journal published a story last week entitled The Nerve-Racking, Soul-Searching, Exhilarating Process of Shopping for a Handbag, that I sort of find unbelievable and tragic. In fact, for a while I thought it was a piece written for The Onion and cleverly disguised as a Wall Street Journal article.

The piece is essentially a treatise on a condition that writer Rachel Dodes labels Handbag Decision Paralysis, “a type of commitment phobia in the accessories milieu.”

Dodes paints a picture of women spending inordinate amounts of time and energy searching for a handbag thats price tag  could feed a village in East Timor for a month.

I don’t understand it. Nor do I think anyone else should.

Dodes writes:

In a modern, mobile world, there's also something deeper going on with women and their bags, according to Judith Clark, professor of fashion and museology at the London College of Fashion. "On one level, it's this banal thing: How do I choose a handbag?" said Ms. Clark, who curated the permanent collection at the recently opened Simone Handbag Museum in Seoul. "But it's also a very intimate decision, having to do with the privacy that goes along with the inside of a bag." In picking a bag, we are in essence showing the world how we pay respect to the contents of our lives, and perhaps even ourselves.

I don’t care if Judith Clark is an accredited professor. This is insane.

First, who “pays respect” to the stuff they own? Am I to believe that a woman’s choice of handbag represents an outward demonstration of the degree to which she respects her iPhone or lip balm or Kindle?

A poor choice of handbag, therefore, reflects a flagrant disrespect for these items?

What does that even mean?

And am I also expected to believe that a woman’s choice of handbag reflects the amount of self respect that she possesses? Because if this is true, womankind is doomed.

If I were a woman, I would be outraged by statements like these, and as the father of a little girl, I am terrified to think that my daughter’s level of self respect and self worth might someday be measurable by her choice of handbag.

Professor Judith Clark was right. This is “a banal thing.” But not on just one level, as she states. All levels.

Equally insane is Rebecca Sinn, the 32-year-old editor at Glamour magazine who Dodes reports has been “eyeing the neat, top-handled Yves Saint Laurent Muse II bag for more than three years but just can't pull the trigger. She likened buying the bag, which costs about $1,500, to a ‘committing to adulthood,’ something that she's not quite ready to do.”

It’s a bag, Rebecca. Yes, it costs twice as much as the iPad that it is designed to carry (which is also insane), but it is nothing more than leather and fabric stitched together in order to carry personal belongings. Likening it to a “commitment to adulthood” is a clear indication that Rebecca Sinn does not know what adulthood is.

Then there is Dode’s friend, Julie, who began emailing her pictures of the large Proenza Schouler PS1.

“We started a lively debate over whether the bag was still "It"—and if it was, whether this was a good thing or not. I had seen versions of it on the flash-sale website Gilt.com, which is a mixed blessing for bag enthusiasts. On one hand, it means you can get the bag for about 30% off. On the other, the discounting is a signal that the bag could be nearing the end of its "It" run. I've carried bags past their invisible expiration date; it's a feeling akin to betting on the wrong horse at the Kentucky Derby.”

I can’t help but wonder (with near sincerity) if Dodes and her friend are still in high school.

A lively debate?

An “It” bag?

A handbag past its expiration date?

What the hell happened to seeing an item, liking an item, determining that the item matches your own sense of style and purchasing the item? What Dodes (and Julie) describe is a desire to find a bag that has enough popular people carrying to make it popular but not too many people carrying it to make it unpopular.

This is high school. Right? It’s the essence of high school.

It’s fairly judgmental for me to assume, but I cannot help but think that every woman involved in this piece, including Dodes, is an entitled, vapid, mindless, boring elitist who lacks an ounce of perspective or a modicum of self confidence.

Upon reflection, I’m sure that’s not entirely correct. Dodes and Sinn and Julie are probably lovely and interesting people with many unique qualities that they share with the world. I’m sure that their mothers love them and their friends think they are clever and adorable.

But when it comes to handbags (and possibly fashion in general), they are vapid, mindless, disgusting sheep.

The person with the highest standards should not automatically be awarded the moral high ground

A piece entitled You’re Dividing Chores Wrong by Emily Oster argues that chores between spouses should be divided based upon increased marginal cost. It’s an interesting argument, but the part that I found most compelling was her comments about loading the dishwasher:

Before my daughter was born, I both cooked and did the dishes. It wasn’t a big deal, it didn’t take too much time, and honestly I was a lot better at both than my husband. His cooking repertoire extended only to eggs and chili, and when I left him in charge of the dishwasher, I’d often find he had run it “full” with one pot and eight forks.

While I have no doubt about Oster’s skill when it comes to cooking and washing dishes, the problem is not her ability to complete household chores but her assumption of the moral high ground when it comes to chores like loading the dishwasher.

As inefficient as her husband may be at loading the dishwasher, her “one pot and eight forks” example is obviously an exaggeration. Nevertheless, why does Oster care if her husband fails to run a full load of dishes? While her standards of a full load may differ from that of her husband’s, this does not necessarily make his standards unacceptable or wrong.

Perhaps her husband is believes in applying the greatest amount of mental and physical effort to the tasks most important in life. Maybe his unwillingness to fill the dishwasher is the result of his desire to recapture precious minutes of the day in order to play with his kids, advance his career, or improve his  exercise regime.

Maybe he knows that the dishwasher is more likely to be emptied sooner if not completely filled.

Or maybe her husband simply doesn’t care that much about the dishwasher.

For reasons that I fail to understand, it is often assumed that the person with the highest standards for any given task assumes the moral authority over that task, but this is not necessarily true.

My wife, for example, does not like it when I put away dishes that are not bone dry. I argue that the dishes can dry nearly as well in the cupboard as they can on the drying rack, and a few drops of leftover moisture in a cup or bowl won’t hurt anyone. My priority is to put the dishes away as soon as possible, because it’s clutter and disorder that I abhor most, but because her standards of dryness exceed mine, her position inherently holds greater weight.

We encounter a similar discrepancy when it comes to the laundry. If left up to me, we would be washing enormous loads of clothing and separating colors to a lesser degree than she, and when I am washing my own clothing, this is what I do. But if the laundry load also contains my wife’s clothing or even the children’s clothing, I adhere to her standards. Smaller loads and a greater separation of darks from the very darks.

Once again, my method of washing is perfectly acceptable and practiced by millions of people around the world, but because Elysha’s standards are higher than mine, her standards prevail.

This principle applies to activities across the spectrum. The person with the lowest speed limit tolerance inherently sets the speed at which a vehicle should be moving. The person with the highest cleanliness standards typically dictates what a particular room will look like. If there is a spouse who believes that the bed should be made every day, the bed is usually made, even if the other spouse believes it to be a waste of time. 

In this world where highest standards take precedent and those who possess them assume greater moral authority, the people who tend to suffer are the corner-cutters, the short-cutters, the devotees of efficiency and the big picture thinkers. These people’s opinion and beliefs tend to take a back seat to the rule followers and detail-oriented individuals who dominate so much of society.

It’s not right.

Disciples of efficiency, productivity and speed must take a stand against the tyranny of unnecessarily high standards and pointless detail. We must insist that our half-filled dishwashers deserve the same amount of respect as the full dishwasher. We must fight for our principles and our priorities in the face of never-ending rules and overly specific expectations that only seek to slow us down, stifle our productivity and trap us in a miasma of unneeded perfection.

Are you with me?

Gold diggers begone!

"Money impresses lazy girls. For those who work hard, a man with money is just a bonus, not a ladder" - Unknown

No, he shouldn’t even be a bonus. A man’s wealth or lack thereof should not be a consideration when choosing who to date or potentially marry.

I’ve spent most of my life in female dominated industries (including attending an all-women’s college for three years), and I have heard the wealth and earning potential of prospective men discussed with disturbing frequency.

I heard it spoken of three times this week.

I’ll repeat that:

Three times this week I listened to a woman talk about a man in terms of his income or overall wealth. In each case, money was one of the leading  factors when it came to determining if a man had dating potential.    

I hear this sentiment expressed on television and film all the time, too. I heard it discussed on a television show last night, and I only watched one show. 

I despise this notion with every fiber of my being.

The last thing I want my daughter to hear is anyone, but especially a potential female role model, talking about a man in terms of his income potential or personal worth.

Whenever I hear a discussion like this, I always make my disgust known. 

Always.

Please don’t get me wrong. Not all women participate in this brand of materialistic self-degradation. But I hear these conversations with shocking and disturbing regularity.

Also, men suck, too, so please don’t think this is some attempt to elevate the status of manhood. Our priorities can be equally appalling. Though I’ve never heard a man talk about a woman in terms of net worth or potential income, we are certainly not without our faults. 

But this is the quote I saw today, so this is what I wrote about. As the father of a young, impressionable daughter, I’d appreciate it if these discussions of a man’s wealth would cease immediately.

I would much prefer that Clara earn her own living rather than rely on a man’s income (or even view it as a bonus). If she falls in love with a humble painter or a hard working sanitation worker, good for her.

Just so long as he is kind and loves her. 

Please. Enough about the money.

Brazil seeks to increase intelligence by banning indoor tanning. At least that’s my guess.

Brazil is the first country in the world to ban indoor tanning for anyone of any age.

Good for Brazil. Perhaps this was an attempt to increase the average IQ of their population. By eliminating tanning completely, it forces their stupidest citizen to leave the country.

I know I’ve written about it before (including 7 perfectly good reasons why the use of a tanning booth is acceptable), but seriously, is there anything stupider than tanning?

Guys as friends

When I hear a woman say that she doesn’t get along with other women and prefers guys as friends, I think, “THAT IMPRESSES NO ONE, YOU TRAITOROUS, INAUTHENTIC, CLICHÉ JERK FACE.”  

Just sayin’.

They can’t win. At least when the critics are stupid.

Coca-Cola has rolled out a series of anti-obesity ads that highlights some of the measures that the company has taken already to curb obesity, including making calorie counts more visible and packaging more products in smaller cans and bottles.  

Critics of the campaign claim that Coke is mere trying to enhance its image in this time of increased awareness of obesity. These same critics claim that if the company was truly concerned about the obesity epidemic, they would change their product entirely or alter their pricing to encourage healthy consumption, which really means less consumption.

I think these critics are stupid, naïve ignoramuses.

Of course Coke’s campaign represents an attempt to enhance its image. This is the purpose of advertising. It’s why advertising exists.

What would these critics have the company do? Spend millions of dollars on public service announcement instead? Spend money in an effort to decrease sales?

Their suggestions for how Coca-Cola might effect real change are equally stupid. Essentially, critics would like Coco-Cola to stop selling Coca-Cola or sell their products at such exurbanite rates that people would drink less of it.

Sure, this might curb consumption and reduce the total number of calories that customers are ingesting, but Coca-Cola is not a non-profit organization. It is not Jenny Craig or Weight Watchers. It is a company that sells a soft drink, beholden upon its stockholders and employees to earn a profit, with a loyal following of adult consumers who can make choices for themselves. 

There’s nothing wrong with a company engaging in advertising in order to enhance it image, and while the measures the company has taken to reduce obesity fail to transform the product into a calorie-free beverage or price is like printer ink or black market hemoglobin, they are legitimate strategies designed to assist consumers who are interested curbing their calorie intake.

Failing to give credit to the company for these legitimate measures makes you look extremist, naïve, uncompromising and ultimately stupid.

My children absolutely adore each other. If you feel the need to tell me it won’t last forever, shut the hell up.

My wife and I are extremely fortunate in that our older daughter, Clara, is head over heels in love with her brother, Charlie. In the seven months that Charlie has been with us, Clara has yet to demonstrate a single moment of jealousy or anger towards him. Not one. Instead, she says things like, “Isn’t Charlie adorable?” and “I love my beautiful baby brother so much!”

This is not what we expected when Charlie was born, but we are thanking our lucky stars every day. As a result, these are two of my new favorite photographs of my kids.

  

I’ve been showing these pictures to friends and colleagues over the past couple weeks (almost always when asked), and at least a handful of people have taken a look and said things like, “You just wait. Things will change between the two of them,” and “Just wait until he can walk and talk. Then all that love will be out the window.”

I will never understand why some parents feel the need to constantly mitigate and attempt to erode the enthusiasm of parents with children younger than their own. These are the same people who seem to take pleasure in telling pregnant mothers and the parents of newborns that they won’t sleep well ever again and that their days of seeing a movie in an actual theater are over.

They say things like, “Just wait until she can walk,” and “Middle school is going to be hell,” and “That toddler cuteness won’t last long.” They take pleasure in reminding new parents about the expenses associated with parenting, the frequency of childhood illnesses and the amount of energy that children demand on a daily basis.

I cannot tell you how many times a parent has warned me about the degree to which my life would change with children, and rarely in a positive way. Their warnings almost always center on the future loss of sleep, money, freedom and peace of mind.

As a result of this experience, I have dedicated my life to counteracting these miserable naysayers. I make it a point of telling new parents about the joys of parenthood whenever possible. I talk about how happy my children make me every day, and how watching them grow up has been one of my greatest joys. I actively refute the negative claims of these scoundrels at every turn and have become slightly belligerent at times in an effort to preserve the hope and joy of new parents.

I’m also sure to warn these pregnant mothers and parents of newborns about the army of parents who are apparently so unhappy with their own lives that they must ensure that everyone around is not too happy, too hopeful, too joyous or too optimistic.

Honestly, what kind of person listens to a father describe his children’s loving relationship and then thinks it’s a good idea to tell him that it won’t last long?

Even if it’s true, why not let me find out for myself? Why cast a pall over this precious moment in the life of my family? It’s not as if these warnings will inoculate me from future sibling strife. I’m not going to be better prepared for future brother-sister battles because of these spiteful, petty warnings. These admonitions serve no useful purpose other than to mitigate the positivity of the moment for a parent like me.

If you are one of these parental naysayers, please do us all a favor and shut the hell up.

If you are not one of these purveyors of pestilence, please do the new parents of the world a favor:

Make it a point to share some of the joys of parenting with these people.

You don’t need to purposefully attack the nattering nabobs of negativism like I do (though you can’t imagine how much fun it is), but at least offer an alternative view of parenting. Talk about the happiness that your children bring to your life. Be specific about the moments that have brought you the most joy. Remind these parents about why they chose to become parents in the first place.

Also, tell the doomsayers that I sleep more now with children than before they were born. Tell them that I saw ten movies in the theater last year and more than twenty during my daughter’s first year of life.

And please let them know that while it’s true that we have less spending money because of our children, my wife and I have used that money to purchase some of the most happy and blissful moments of our lives, so it’s been money well spent, damn it.

Fat employees receive fewer benefits at Whole Foods

There are a lot of problems with Whole Foods’ policy of awarding larger discounts to employees with lower blood pressure, cholesterol and BMI.

There is the issue of privacy, of course. In order to determine what level of discount has been earned, an employee is required to subject him or herself to a physical examination and surrender private medical information to his or her employer. 

There are also genetic conditions and illnesses that prevent individuals from achieving the blood pressure, cholesterol and BMI levels that Whole Foods requires for the highest discount possible. While Whole Foods has attempted to mitigate these concerns by offering specialized consideration for legitimate medical issues, this would require employees to disclose even more medical information to their employer.

Once again, privacy concerns abound.

There is also an apparent disregard to the connection between a healthy diet and the amount of money a person can spend for food.

The research is clear:

The more a person can spend on food, the more likely his or her food choices will be healthy ones. Offering larger discounts to employees who are already exhibiting healthy eating habits only serves to perpetuate the chasm between those who can afford healthy food and those who cannot.

But all of these concerns pales in comparison to the real problem with Whole Foods policy:

It sounds like an incentive policy created by a bunch of condescending, judgmental jerk faces.

The title to this blog post is “Fat employees receive fewer benefits at Whole Foods.” While this sentence was admittedly chosen for its inflammatory nature, it’s factually accurate. It contains no exaggeration.

Fat employees, or employees with elevated blood pressures and levels of cholesterol are granted fewer benefits as a result of their physical condition.

Not good.

Even if an incentive plan is logical and based upon irrefutable scientific research, it can still appear mean-spirited and elitist.

This one does. 

Whole Foods needs to ask itself:

Is rating our employees based upon specific physical attributes and then assigning them levels (designated by a gold, silver or bronze label) sound like a nice thing to do?

No, it doesn’t.

Furthermore, there are so many other ways for Whole Foods management to incentivize their employees to lead healthier lives that don’t involve weighing them, sticking them with needles and dividing them into metallically-labeled levels of achievement.

Rather than a 20% discount on everything in the store, Whole Foods could offer a 40% discount on fruits and vegetables only.

They could offer free consultations with nutritionists and trainers or discounted memberships to local gyms.

They could subsidize the co-pay on an employee’s annual physical.

But categorizing employees by weight and blood pressure for the purposes of offering varying discounts on food purchases?

Even if it works to improve the overall health of the workforce, it’s just not nice, and it doesn’t project the right image for a company that is all about image.

Parents can be awful and despicable to their adult children. I will not be one of them.

After years of listening to stories about the suffering that my adult friends are forced to endure at the hands of their meddlesome and controlling parents, I have decided to create a list of promises to my children that will protect them from such behavior in their future.

While I can’t imagine myself engaging in any of this despicable behavior when my kids are adults, I can only assume that these rotten, interfering  parents felt the same way when they were my age, and yet somehow they ended up acting like selfish, petulant, overbearing jerks.

This list will serve as an insurance policy in the event that the same happens to me when I am older.

I plan on adding to the list and re-posting it as often as needed.

Please feel free to offer any additions to the list.

It should also be noted that as of this moment, my in-laws are not guilty of any of these offenses, nor was my mother when she was alive. These items are based solely on the experience of my unfortunate friends.

Thus far I have been exceedingly fortunate.

This does not mean, however, that I would not include them on this list in the future if their otherwise reasonable and respectful behavior takes a turn for the worse.

Promises To My Future Adult Children

1. I will never criticize or attempt to manipulate my children’s choice of names for my grandchildren. Doing so is a selfish, intrusive, despicable act. It is also one of the most asinine things a grandparent can do.
   
2. I will never pressure any of my children to get married. Doing so is hurtful, insensitive, narrow-minded and potentially damaging to a child’s future.
   
3. I will never criticize my children’s choice of occupations. Doing so only serves to impose my own values and personal estimation of happiness on them, which is selfish, narrow0minded and despicable.
   
4. I will never criticize my children’s decisions related to religion. Doing so fails to honor them as individuals and free thinkers and is selfish, self-serving, antagonistic and despicable.

So much for skipping

While attending the Brattleboro Literary Festival last October, I was reintroduced to the joys of skipping. 

My wife was less than supportive about my newfound joy, but I heard from at handful of readers who had taken my advice and tried skipping again after many years of non-skipping.

All reported it to be a unexpectedly joyous act.

So just when I thought that skipping could possess mainstream appeal, along comes The Skipper, a man destined to ruin skipping forever by making skipping look like the most ridiculous form of locomotion on the planet.

I hate when zealots destroy a perfectly wonderful thing with their complete lack of restraint.  

Judgmental wrapping jerkface

I do not wrap gifts well. Part of my problem relates to a lack of skill, but I also don’t value the wrapping of gifts all that much and designate time accordingly.

Growing up, most gifts in my home were wrapped in newspaper, and if we were lucky, the color version of the Sunday comics. Perhaps my lack of interest began then.

However, I was intrigued when I saw this video on ways to wrap challenging gifts, because I struggle with this from time to time.

Then I actually watched the video and was supremely annoyed.

Within the first minute, the wrapping expert made the following statements:

Upon being shown a less than ideally wrapped gift and asked how she would feel had she received the gift, she said, “I would feel like you didn’t take much time and effort in the wrapping of it, and I would be disappointed.”

Disappointed? I’m giving you a gift, but because I failed to use ribbon or wrap it in the preferred method, you are going to be disappointed?

Then I’ll just keep the damn gift and give it to someone who does not allow the wrapping to get in the way of the sentiment.

She then adds that a less than ideal wrapping job “devalues the presentation, which sometimes devalues the gift.”

Seriously? If I wrap your gift poorly, you may no longer value the gift as much. Once again, I just wouldn’t give this woman a gift. Ever. What the hell happened to “It’s the thought that counts.”

This wrapping expert would have you believe that “It’s the thought that counts, as long as the merchandise is wrapped well.”

Finally, when presented with a wine bottle wrapped in traditional wrapping paper, she say, “It would be embarrassing to give or to get, I think.”

No, lady. I think you should be embarrassed for believing that a substandard wrapping job would embarrassing any rational giver or receiver. The last thing any sane person is doing when receiving a gift is evaluating the quality of the wrapping. 

Her suggestion for wrapping a bottle of wine is a product called the Wine’O, which appears to be little more than a version of the tall, brown paper bag that you receive at a liquor store when purchasing a bottle of wine.

The wrapping expert declares the Wine’O classy.

The Wine’O is so not classy.

The definition of taking yourself way too seriously

Only two people at Kentucky Friend Chicken know the secret recipe of eleven herbs and spices, and they are not allowed to travel together for security reasons.

Shut up, Torie Bosch.

In a piece about the Decembeaver (I’ll let you read about it on Slate if you’d like), Slate’s Torie Bosch writes:

So we’ve made it through Movember, that silly month in which men on your Facebook wall grow out their mustaches “for cancer.” (Because one cannot simply donate to groups like the American Cancer Society—a stunt must be involved.)

If you’ve never heard of it, Movember is an annual, month-long event involving the growing of moustaches during the month of November to raise awareness of prostate cancer and other male cancer and their associated charities. In its eight years of existence, the organization has raised hundred of millions of dollars for these charities and is the leading contributor to prostate cancer research in many countries around the world.

This is why Bosch’s comments annoyed the hell out of me.

First, she states that men grow mustaches for cancer, placing the two words in quotation marks presumably to express doubt as to these men’s intentions. But the organization has already raised hundred of millions of dollars “for cancer” already. Why does Bosch question the motives of these participants?

Why would anyone question the motives of people who are raising enormous sums of money in the interests of medical research?

Then she adds this parenthetical sentence:

(Because one cannot simply donate to groups like the American Cancer Society—a stunt must be involved.)

The stupidity of this statement astounds me.

First, part of the purpose of Movember is to raise awareness of prostate cancer and other male cancers, and in doing so, encourage men to get an annual check-up, become more aware of any family history of cancer, and to adopt a healthier lifestyle.

It seems to me that an army of men sporting newly grown mustaches around the world is a perfect way to garner attention for a good cause and raise awareness of a serious, often ignored medical issue. This is not a stunt. It’s a means of channeling the energy of millions of people into a single cause for a single month in the year, and in doing so, create a distinct, daily visual reminder about the cause.   

Second, does Bosch also think that every Breast Cancer Walk, Walk For Diabetes, Race for The Cure and the like should also be eliminated? Can’t these walkers and runners simply donate money without some stunt being involved? Why must thousands of people spend countless weekends walking and running around this country in order to raise money and awareness for worthy charities? Just hand over the damn money and be done with it.

Right?

This is what Bosch seems to be implying.

I would also point out that Movember is a sponsored event. Participants get sponsors for their mustaches, allowing them to contribute more money to the cause than they could ever contribute on their own and involving people who might not want not be able to grow a mustache but are more than willing to help. 

To imply that these men should just fork over some money and forget the “silly month” suggests absolute ignorance in regards to the purpose and ways in which these charitable foundations work.

Shut up, Torie Bosch. 

I have never participated in Movember, but I think the story behind the origins of the organization is fascinating, and I see nothing but goodness coming from the organization. I suggest you watch Movember’s founder Adam Garone’s TED Talk below. It’s remarkable how this organization has grown in just eight short years. The story is inspiring and amusing and a great reminder about the power of people pulling together.  

Consistency, people.

It’s a pet-peeve perhaps, but the seemingly random capitalization of words makes me crazy.

Think about it: In order to produce this sign, someone had to purposefully hold the shift key down while typing three of the words in the sentence but (for reasons I will never understand) release the shift key for the fourth.

It makes absolutely no sense. It’s crazy-town. Truly.   

Why nudity sucks and should be avoided at all costs

The ratio of risk-reward when it comes to nudity is similar to that of the risk-reward associated with a helium balloon and a toddler.

While nudity sounds compelling, the actual percentage of people in the world who you would like to see naked is probably less than half.

Considerably less than half.

And the percentage of people in the world who you don’t want to see naked under any circumstances is probably greater than half.

In all likelihood much greater than half.

Therefore, if I was about to pull back a curtain and show you ten randomly-selected people who have removed all of their clothing, you might find yourself curious. Intrigued. Excited. Perhaps even aroused.

But statistically speaking, the odds of you seeing a naked person who you actually want to see naked is low.

Conversely, the odds of you seeing a naked person who you wish you had never seen naked is high.

As a result, the risk-reward ratio of nudity demands that you close your eyes before the curtain is ever drawn back lest your eyes fall upon an image that you can never forget.

Nudity seems compelling in theory, but in practice, it is only compelling under certain circumstances which are sadly less common in the world than you might initially think.

Three reasons why helium balloons suck

First, there is a serious helium shortage in the world today, and helium is a crucial ingredient in MRI machines, wafer manufacturing, welding. Wasting this precious resource on party balloons is foolish.

Second, the actual balloons are terrible for the environment. Lost balloons end up in the stomachs of animals and marine life, causing suffering and unnecessary death.

But the worst part about helium balloons is the disproportionate level of risk-reward that they offer.

Give a toddler a balloon? The toddler smiles. Maybe laughs. Stares at the balloon in relative joy. 

But a toddler loses a balloon? Accidentally releases it into the sky?

All hell breaks lose. Screaming and wailing and tears. Begging and pleading for another balloon. Red cheeks. Flailing hands. Stomping feet.

A nightmare, my friends.

It’s just not worth it. Buy the kid a candy bar instead.

My toddler is a crack addict. Even worse, your Amber Alert system is still operating in 1997.

My wife and I took our daughter to a local grocery store on Saturday morning to register her for the Amber Alert program.

In order to register a child for Amber Alert, the child’s height and weight is measured and a headshot of the child is needed.

My daughter despises all three of these activities.

This made it both amusing and frustrating to listen to the two Amber Alert volunteers attempt to coax my daughter onto the scale and in front of the camera.

First they attempted bribery, offering Clara stickers, candy, coloring books, a balloon and the promise of more candy if she would comply.

Bribery does not work on my daughter. She places little value on material possessions and simply cannot be bought.

You should have seen the look on the volunteer’s face when Clara rejected the balloon. I’m not sure if she had ever seen a child reject a balloon in her life.

Then they attempted to exert peer pressure, explaining how all the other children had stood in front of the camera.

Peer pressure also does not work with my daughter. She was quite happy for her friends when they all became potty trained but this did not influence her desire to become potty trained in any way. She simply does not care what other people are doing or thinking about her. 

Then they attempted to rationalize with Clara, explaining the importance of this program and the ease by which the process would be completed. I stopped the woman before she could finish her first sentence.

“My daughter is three years old,” I said. “No amount of rationalizing is going to work with her. You are only giving her unnecessary warning about we are about to do. Surprise is our only weapon here. Think of my daughter as a crack addict. Would you try to rationalize with a crack addict about the dangers of drug use? Same rules apply here.”

The volunteer, who is also probably a mother, did not seem to appreciate the comparison of my daughter to a crack addict, but I thought she was equally insane for trying to explain the benefits of the Amber Alert system to an entrenched three year old .

In the history of human civilization, has any entrenched toddler ever said, “You know what? You’re right. This is important. I’m sorry for not realizing it sooner.”

Here’s a better question:

Why does the Amber Alert registration process require me to meet  volunteers with a laptop and camera outside a grocery store on a Saturday morning to complete a process that I could have done at home in a fraction of the time?

Even more important, my daughter’s height and weight will be different by Thursday. How is this system going to assist in locating my daughter if she disappears two years from now, when her height, weight and overall appearance have changed entirely?

Am I expected to return to this supermarket every six months to have Clara’s information updated?

If the Amber Alert system consisted of a secure website that parents could access at home, we could update our child’s height, weight and photograph on a regular basis, and I wouldn’t be required to drive four towns over and wait outside a grocery store on a Saturday morning in order to have volunteers offer my daughter balloons and candy to get her to do something that I can already do at home with much greater ease.

And I could’ve registered my daughter for the program months or even years ago instead of waiting for an Amber Alert Safe ID Event to make an appearance near my home.

It’s as if someone has frozen the Amber Alert system in 1997.

Even the Amber Alert website is incredibly wonky. Not only does it include scrolling. illegible text circa 1997 and a prominent display of the “Current Date” and “Current Time” in the top right and left corners circa never, but my hometown is not listed in its database of Connecticut cities and towns, making it impossible for me to search for an Amber Alert event near my home.

The text of the site is written in (I kid you not) 6 point font and there are links placed on top of text.

Don’t get me wrong. The Amber Alert system is a wonderful and much needed program, but it appears to be run by people who are still using Windows 97 machines and accessing the Internet via dialup.

I chose not to become a professional cuddler

My list of careers is long. Elementary school teacher Author Wedding DJ Minister Professional speaker Life coach

My list of careers that I am seeking to make happen include:

Professional best man (I have had three serious inquiries thus far)

Professional double date companion

Grave site visitor

I recently posted a list of future careers that I am interested in pursuing, and in addition to those, I’m also interested in launching an efficiency consulting firm. I’m confident that I can improve the efficiency and productivity of almost anyone if you give me a week.

My interests are wide and varied. I collect jobs like some people collect antiques.

As a result, for an extremely brief but shameful moment, I also considered the career of a professional cuddler, an option that I became aware of after reading about it in TIME.

Graduate student Jacqueline Samuel has turned the act of cuddling into a business. In June, the 29-year-old launched the Snuggery, a company that allows clients to cuddle with her for $60 an hour.

Thankfully, the idea of professional cuddling did not last long, for a number of reasons.

First, I suspect that my wife might be opposed to this particular career choice.

Second, $60 an hour did not sound like enough money to make the effort  worth my time.

But most important, the job sounds incredibly boring. Simply holding a person for a solid hour? If I was allowed to read a book or listen to a podcast while cuddling, it might be worthy of my time and hold my interest, but holding some sorry sack for an hour without any other distraction?

No thank you.