Tag me in, reality television stars! I'm ready to fight!

Here’s the newest job I want: When a lunatic-intimidating-bully on a reality television show or talk show loses his or her mind and verbally assaults a weaker member of the cast, I’d like the victim of the verbal barrage to be able to hit a big, orange button and tag me in to counterattack.

I have many flaws (I've actually listed them), but verbal combat ain’t one of them.

I love verbal combat.

I am a verbal combat ninja.

I am ruthless, relentless, and well armed for almost any situation.

I am capable of some serious verbal jujitsu.

I can probably thank my evil stepfather for this skill. He provided me with a lifetime of experience in this regard.

Sadly, there are simply not enough opportunities to use this skill in my life.  Try as I might, my opportunities for verbal sparring are hampered by a tragic tendency toward reasonability, moderation. and decorum in the general public.

But not on reality television. These shows are chock full of mouthy lunatics and inarticulate, overconfident fools who manage to win verbal sparring contests through sheer force of will.

These are the ones for whom the big, orange button is designed.

Tag me in and let me take them down with a combination of logic and aggression.

Who knows a reality show producer who might be interested in my services?

A new plan for dealing with the never-ending coffee clichés

I know I have attacked the institution of coffee before and also immediately reconsidered that same position. But did you know that there are nine Dunkin’s Donuts within three miles of my home, and seven of them are located within my relatively small, suburban town?

My commute is about five minutes, and I pass two along the way.

Not to mention five Starbucks and an assorted of non-branded coffee shops.

The stuff is everywhere.

It’s also not uncommon for me to arrive at a meeting where the only beverage being served is coffee.

For the non-coffee drinker, it seems as if coffee can be found at every turn.

My complaint, however, has never been with coffee or the consumption of coffee, but once again, with the constant dialogue attached to coffee.

The comments, the complaints, the Facebook updates, the tweets, the laments, and the jokes about needing that first cup.

I can get through a single day without being clichéd to death with coffee.

That’s the crux of the problem. Drink as much coffee as you’d like, but could you all just stop talking about it so much, or at least find something new to say about it?

In order to make me feel better, I’ve come up with a solution:

I am going to echo every coffee comment, complaint and cliché with an identical statement, except I will replace the word "coffee" with "orange juice," a beverage which I consume almost every morning.

You tell me that you need a cup of coffee to wake you up?

I’ll say the same for that glass of OJ I drank this morning.

You tell me that it’s going to be a three cup day?

I’ll lament my decision to drink just a single glass of orange juice this morning.

Tweet something like "The Black Canister has been unearthed! Coffee is nigh (an actual tweet from today).”

I’ll tweet, “The oranges have been picked and squeezed. OJ is nigh.”

This echoing of coffee commentary will serve two purposes:

1.  Maybe after hearing these overdone, overused, clichéd coffee diatribes in a new context, coffee drinkers will consider reducing the number of times they talk about their beverage of choice on a daily basis.

Is this a likely outcome? No. But it’s possible.

2.  More important, it will amuse me, and in doing so, make me happy. It’s not uncommon for me to do something that is seemingly inane and meaningless in order to amuse myself, and while most people think these things are stupid and pointless, happiness is a commodity that is sorely lacking in many lives and one that I consider precious.

If I can do this and sprinkle a little joy into my life without hurting anyone (and perhaps engendering a smile or two from others in the process), I’m in.

My wife also thought the idea was amusing and approved of the plan.  Elysha often serves as my barometer in these matters, distinguishing between the amusing and silly ideas and the downright stupid and potentially offensive ones.

If only I paid better attention to her…

Author Laurie Halse Anderson and I have eerily similar mindsets. Except I think the universe wants me dead.

Author Laurie Halse Anderson, at a recent SCBWI conference, spoke to would-be writers about what she called Attitudes You Want to Grow in Your Soul. The title is a little touchy-feely for me. I might have gone with something like Attitudes Required to Stop Being a Loser or What to Remember When You Are Acting Like a Whining Baby.

But the ideas she provides in order to grow your soul are remarkable similar to beliefs that I profess on an almost daily basis (with the exception of one).

She said:

• 24 hours in a day is more than enough.
• The universe wants you to be creative.
• Change equals discomfort. Discomfort won't kill you.
• You have the intelligence to reclaim your lost time, but are you brave enough?
• You have more control over how you spend your precious time and energy than you care to admit.

That’s a good list, and it’s one that people (and especially writers) need to hear.  The only one I would change would be the second:

• The universe wants you to be creative.

I would replace it with this:

• Entropy exists. The universe wants to kill you and spread your matter across the widest possible distance. The clock is ticking.  Move now.

Not quite as inspirational as the other bullets, but extremely important to remember.

718 words on 13 words: A literary analysis and deconstruction of my daughter’s very first story.

Yesterday I wrote about my daughter’s first story. Her story went like this:

Once upon a time there was a bear. She ate dinner. The End.

Then I tweeted about it using the following description:

@MatthewDicks: My two-year old daughter told her first original story, complete of suspense, romance and a hint of existentialism.

Then someone challenged my summary of the story, claiming it has no suspense, romance or existentialism at all.

I assured the critic that it contained all three elements and much more, and it was only the character limit of Twitter that prevented me from fully elaborating on the intricacies of the tale.

And so I offer my literary analysis and deconstruction of Clara Dicks’s first story.

Let us begin with her use of “Once upon a time”

The use of these four important words signals both acknowledgement and deference to her literary predecessors, who have helped to craft the language, syntax and grammar that allows her to communicate in the written form, as well as expressing her desire to step into the pantheon of these artists.

“Once upon a time” also establishes an undercurrent of nostalgia. It tells us that this story did not happen yesterday but rather in some yesteryear.

Clara chooses a bear as her protagonist, which in itself is an interesting choice. The bear is a unique creature in the annals of humankind.  It is both feared for its deadly power and willingness to kill, and yet human beings possess a fondness over this creature that borders on a spiritual connection. No man ever wants to encounter a polar bear or grizzly bear in the wild, and yet if given the choice, no man wants to see any of these majestic beasts killed either. We have taken the image of the bear and embodied it with all that is wild and free and good.

There is a reason why the world’s most popular stuffed animal is the teddy bear. Despite their inherent danger, we fill our children’s lives with these stuffed representations of these majestic beasts.

Even after witnessing a grizzly bear kill a man and his girlfriend in the film Grizzly Man, the viewer cannot help but sympathize for the man-eating bear for enduring this film maker's stupidity and grandiosity for so long.

We can’t help but ask:

Wouldn’t we have eaten him weeks earlier if given the chance?

The choice of the bear was a purposeful one on Clara’s behalf, and it says a great deal about her intent.

Speaking of eating, Clara’s bear is having dinner in the story, but note that she is dining alone. Herein lies the intertwining of both romance and suspense, or at least the suggestion thereof. The bear is dining alone. Why? Is she awaiting her romantic companion, or has she been stood up? Or worse, are the bear and her romantic companion no longer together, thus forcing our protagonist to eat without the benefit of company. Is her relationship over or simply on the rocks. The romance and suspense work together to leave the reader guessing the answer to this universal question:

Why would anyone dine alone?

And even more poignant:

Is there anything sadder than a woman eating alone?

Even if she is a bear.

As for the existential elements of the story, is there anything more existential than the use of the phrase The End? The End of what? The bear? The romance? The story altogether?

Or does it instead speak to the end of the reader’s personal relationship to the story? An end to this specific moment in time?

Or does The End hint at the existence of an ultimate end? A finality to all? Is the author reminding us that despite the appeal of the protagonist and the sorrow surrounding her solo dinner, all of this will be meaningless in The End. Our protagonist ceases to exist past those final two words, and once the reader ceases to exist, so will his or her memories, and thus the existence of the protagonist as well.

Is Clara Dicks expressing her belief that in The End, we are all merely wisps of memory, destined to be lost to time’s eternal, unwavering march?

I think so.

And that, my friends, is what an English degree can do for you, if utilized properly.

What would you tell your pregnant self? My three suggestions.

Nummies, a maker of maternity bras, asked women what they would tell themselves if they could go back in time to just before their first baby arrived.

They produced a video of the mother’s responses.

Along similar lines, NPR’s The Baby Project asked mothers and fathers:

If you could go back in time before your first baby arrived, what would you tell yourself?

My responses:

1. When your wife’s water breaks, go to the hospital. Don’t tell her to relax and go back to bed.
2. No behavior, routine or chore is permanent. Sick of having to place every item of food into your child’s mouth? Relax. She’ll be scooping things up with her fingers before you know it. Change is rapid and unexpected. Even diapers will end someday.
3. A seeming majority of parents are determined to convince you that parenting is incredibly difficult, presumably because if you find it easy, you will serve as an indictment of their own parental skills. Don’t listen to their doom and gloom stories. Ignore their complaints and warnings. Even better, tell them to shut the hell up.

When an overly slow driver pulls to the side of the road to allow you to pass, even though you are driving the speed limit, what is a man to do? Here’s one idea:

Tell me if this was mean. I was on my way to the post office yesterday, driving on a rather short street, when I came upon a car driving exceedingly slowly. I looked down at my speedometer and determined that I was driving at the speed limit (35 MPH) and guessed that the car in front of me was probably going about 20 MPH.

Though annoyed, I maintained a safe distance from the slowpoke, fearing that his reduced speed might be an indication of his poor driving skill. Then the car’s right directional began flashing and the car pulled over to the side of the road.

There was nothing at this point on the road to indicate that the man driving the car had reached his destination, so I assumed that he was pulling aside to let me pass.

I decided to take action. Though it doesn’t happen often, I have always been infuriated by these drivers who pull over to allow me to pass when I am driving the speed limit and maintaining a safe distance. There is a posted speed limit on every street, and it’s expected that you will drive at or near this speed. In fact, you can be ticketed for driving too slow.

And 35 MPH is hardly breakneck speed.

Had I been speeding or tailgating, I would understand the man’s desire to pull over. but to do so when the car behind you is clearing driving the speed limit at a safe distance is like a vehicular accusation of what he perceived to be my substandard driving proficiency.

“Hell no,” I thought. “Not this time.”

So instead of passing, I also switched on my directional and pulled over to the side of the road behind the man, bringing my car to a halt about two car lengths from my accuser. A second later the man rolled down his window and waved his arm to indicate that I should pass.

I shook my hand and smiled as if to say, “No, that’s quite alright” and proceeded to check my email on my phone.

He waved more insistently, and I once again indicated that I was perfectly fine where I was.

After a minute or two, the man switched on his the left turn signal and pulled back out on to the road.

I did the same, following the man for about less than a mile before turning into the post office.

I felt good about my decision as I crossed the parking lot and entered the post office, but I also thought that some might find my actions overly cruel, finding reason to side with the man and make excuses for his slow driving.

I still feel good about my decision a day later. I did not break any laws. I did not yell or curse at the man. I did not waste any time.

Best of all, it was fun.

Thoughts?

Weeping cat owners require segregation

After my third visit to the veterinarian this month and the millionth visit in the lifetime of my dog, I would like to offer the following suggestion: There needs to be two areas for pet owners to check out.

One for owners who have brought their pet in for a standard check-up or a similar non-life-threatening visit and a separate area for people whose pets have died or are dying.

This morning I was standing behind a weeping woman and her confused son as they paid the bill for their dying cat. Huddled in a small box on the counter, the cat apparently has days to live (as the owner just learned), and I was forced to watch her spill tears onto the cat while she waited for the employee behind the counter to prepare her medications and calculate her bill.

It isn’t the first time this has happened. I have watched people collapse to the floor and weep upon learning that their pet has died, and while I might do the same, it would be nice if these displays of sorrow could be done in a more private setting.

Perhaps bring the bill to the examination room rather than asking these poor souls to check out like the rest of us.

This poor woman (and her befuddled boy) didn’t need me or the lady and her three kids waiting behind me staring at her during this moment of sadness, and  I did not need to bear witness to this grief.

It hurt my heart.

Adding to my displeasure was a bulletin board to my right, full of cards thanking the veterinarians for helping to ease various pets into a painless death.

I was surrounded by sorrow, and frankly, I didn’t like it one bit.

When the weeping cat owner was forced to contest her bill in between sobs, it all became too much for me, and for a moment, I considered exiting without paying.

The dine-and-dash equivalent of the veterinary world.

Had I not required a follow-up visit and some medication, I might have done just that.

So please, a separate area for grieving pet owners. One far away from us less tortured souls and allowing for the privacy that these pet owners need.

Oh, and to the woman who was standing behind me with her three children:

If your daughter is so frightened of dogs that she literally screams whenever one approaches, perhaps it would be best to not bring her to the veterinarian's office.

Every time my dog even looked in her direction, she screamed.

I wanted to tell the little girl to grow up, but we already had one person crying in line, and I did not want to add another.

How to deliver a wedding toast

Slate’s Troy Patterson wrote a piece on how to deliver a wedding toast. It’s a good list. In fact, #3 on Patterson’s list is similar to one of my own.

I don’t disagree with any of Patterson’s rules. What I suspect, however, is that Patterson has not listened to more than a thousand wedding toasts over the course of his lifetime.

As a wedding DJ with almost 20 years of experience, I have.

As a result, I have become keenly aware of some of the simple but shockingly common mistakes that people make when delivering a toast. So while Patterson’s list centers on what makes a good toast, my list leans towards the mistakes most common during a wedding toast.

After almost two decades in the wedding industry, I have seen them all.

And so I give you:

Matthew Dicks' Rules for Delivering a Successful Wedding Toast

1. There is no need to introduce yourself at the beginning of your toast. If you are important enough to be speaking, everyone who needs to know who you are already knows who you are.

2. Speak into the microphone, damn it. You can’t imagine how often this rule is ignored, even after I provide clear instruction and an opportunity for practice prior to the toast. This rule is most often violated by women who think that the microphone should be held like a bouquet of flowers.

3. Do not talk about the weather. You would be shocked by the number of times a best man feels the need to review the weather conditions for the day thus far at the onset of his toast.

4. Compliment the bride as many times as possible. Say nothing negative.

5. Do not tell inside jokes or make references only understood by the bride and groom. You are not speaking to two people or even your small collection of college friends. You are speaking to everyone in the room. Make your toast accessible to all.

6. Embarrassing stories about the groom are acceptable as long as they do not involve women, excessive alcohol and drug use, law enforcement officers, or bodily fluids.

7. Make the goal of your wedding toast to say something about the bride and groom that is not already universally known by the guests and will serve to enhance their opinion or knowledge of the bride and groom as a result.

8. Actually make a toast. Do not deliver a speech and sit down without raising a glass to the bride and groom. Even though I remind every person who is giving a toast about this rule, it is by far the one forgotten most often.

Two new jobs I’m looking to add to my collection of jobs: Double date companion and grave site visitor

I am a teacher, an author, a DJ, a minister and most recently, a life coach. I am paid for all these jobs. My wife claims that I collect jobs, and while that might be true, I only collect jobs that have meaning to me.

First and foremost, I am a teacher. It is what I wanted to be when I was growing up. It is what I spend most of my time doing, and it is the most important job that I have.

Author is a close second. I love writing, and I am proud of what I have accomplished in the publishing world thus far. Writing has become a legitimate career for me, and thanks to my success, we were able to buy our home and keep my wife out of work for the first eighteen months of my daughter’s life. Today she works part-time thanks to my career as an author. Years ago, I decided that I would like to one day write for a living and teach for pleasure. While that goal has not yet been realized, it would appear that I am on my way to making it a reality.

The DJ business is one that I started with my best friend sixteen years ago, and though I grumble and complain when I am forced to leave my family for work on a Saturday, it’s hard to whine about spending the day with my best friend at a party of my own making, and being paid well for it. It’s also gratifying to know that I have played an important role in one of the most important days of my clients’ lives, and as an added bonus, one of my best friends is a former client. That’s a lot of benefits from what began as a dream to one day DJ a wedding. It’s also a part-time job, with most of the work taking place in the summer when I am not teaching, making it a perfect compliment to my teaching career.

Despite my lack of religious belief, I became a minister so that I could marry couples who hire me as a DJ. Over the years I have married about a dozen couples in all, including friends and coworkers, and I have begun to officiate ceremonies like baby naming ceremonies as well. It is not demanding or time-consuming work, but it is meaningful, memorable work.

My goal of becoming a paid life coach was realized last month when I was hired for my first coaching gig. Years ago, I met a woman who was becoming a life coach, and I was immediately intrigued. I had never heard of such a thing before. She explained to me that she had just completed a certification program at a local college and was looking for clients. But when I questioned her about her own life, I realized that she did not have any real experience to go along with the training. No tragedy or trauma, no struggles or surprising successes, no bootstrap-pulling scenarios that might have qualified her to help others. While I had no interest in the training she received, I thought that I had a lifetime of experience that I could put to use helping people and so my goal was born. And now it has been achieved.

Yes, I collect jobs. But not traditional jobs. Not the kind that require time cards and bosses and fixed schedules. I collect interesting work. Unique jobs. Passion projects.

Most recently I declared my intention to become a professional best man, and while some may have thought that this idea was a tongue-in-cheek gag, I am serious. I would very much like to be hired as a professional best man and think I am uniquely qualified for the job.

Today I would like to add two other prospective jobs to my list.

1.  Professional double date companion

I have a vision of my wife and my becoming the couple you hire when you plan on dating someone who you do not know for the first time. Rather than flying solo and having to endure the challenges of meeting and evaluating a person for the first time while simultaneously trying to impress him or her, my wife and I would join you on your first date, either transparently as hired guns or covertly as newfound acquaintances.

Our role would be as facilitators. We would work hard to ensure that the date progresses smoothly while doing everything in our power to make you look and sound your best. At the same time, we would be garnering as much information about your prospective mate as possible in as short a time as possible in order to provide you with those all-important second and third opinions at the conclusion of the evening. Why wait for the fifth or sixth date to introduce your prospective mate to friends and family when we can weigh in on the subject immediately?

My wife’s unending charm and ability to make anyone feel at ease, combined with my insight and willingness to ask the tough question will serve you well.  Stripped of the standard pressures of the first date, you will find yourself well armed with two people whose sole purpose it to serve your best interests by making you look good while simultaneously determining if your date is a person worth your time and energy.

With a service like this available, why would anyone go on a first date without us ever again?

2.  Professional grave site visitor

I learned about this unique occupation after reading about it in the New York Times:

Advertising in a local newspaper and in fliers she distributed in surrounding towns, Terry Marotta-Loprioree offered her services: “Continue your signs of love and respect for your loved ones who have passed. If you are unable to visit your loved ones for whatever reason, I can help. Whether you need flowers delivered, prayers said or just a status on the condition of the site, I will visit any Westchester or Putnam County cemetery on your behalf. Proof of my visit will be either e-mailed or sent to you through the mail.”

My first thought:

I can do that! Hell, I’d love to do that. Get paid for visiting a grave? Maybe deliver some flowers and pull a few weeds. Perhaps even offer a prayer to the deceased. I’m a minister! Who better qualified. And I have died twice, giving me more in common with your deceased than anyone else around!

I’m ready, willing and able, and I’m seriously considering placing an ad on CraigsList to see what happens.

It will begin with something like this:

"Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays this professional grave visitor, minister and near-death survivor from spending quality time with your deceased love one.”

I’d also add the option of playing a client’s recorded message to the deceased, making my visit even more personally appealing.

Not bad. Huh?

I’m also very interested in a career as a professional speaker and am seeking a lecture agent at this time, and I have plans for a corporate consulting gig following the publication of my semi-autobiographical book on productivity and efficiency.

But for now, professional best man, professional double dater and professional grave visitor will do.

Any takers?

Disappointment can be entertaining when you aren’t the one being disappointed

New York City Starbucks have begun to cover up some of their electrical outlets in order to to eliminate the customers “who spread all their papers out and stay for hours on end, turning a coffee-shop table into their makeshift cubicle,” says a Time magazine piece on the subject. The move “reflects a growing trend of coffee shops trying to discourage squatters from hogging seats while spending little.”

This is the kind of story that makes my heart soar, not because these squatters impact me in anyway. I don’t drink coffee, and while I have been known on rare occasions to sit down in a Starbucks to write, the ungodly scream of the milk steamer, combined with the incomprehensibility of the language that is spoken in those shops, makes it a place where I cannot concentrate for very long.

No, it’s not that these squatters inconvenience me.

Instead, I approve of this decision simply because I like to imagine the look on the faces of the laptop squatters when they return to their favorite coffee shop/work area, only to find their power source eliminated.

It’s that image that brings me happiness.

In a perfect world, I would have the time to camp out beside these former power outlets and spend the day watching the squatters approach their favorite table only to realize that their plans for electrical subjugation have been foiled.

It’s a pleasure drawn from suffering and cruel amusement, I know.

But if I’m being honest, it’s also the sole reason that this story attracted my attention in the first place.

Sort of my own personal version of watching a NASCAR race to see an accident, but with fewer potentially dire consequences.

My simple but effective solution to the idiots who text in the movie theater

The Star Telegram reports that 250-pound Dale Fout, who describes himself as “a pretty big guy, broad, not fat,” is suing 132-pound Brenda Godwin after she assaulted him for texting during a movie in a local theater. Mr. Fout states::

"I got a text, and I responded to it because it was something important. It was something that was on a deadline situation, OK. I held it against my chest purposely where I could barely see it. ... I could text but hide the majority of the light coming from the phone.

She said something. I couldn't make it out. That's why I turned. She was probably saying something like, 'Get off your phone.' I turned, and she pushed. She just happened to push my neck at the time my neck was in an awkward position. Kinda like having a little fender bender, and you get a little whiplash in your neck, you know."

According to Godwin, she reached over and tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention.

The police stated that they remain neutral in these situations but added that "assault by contact is usually not something like this. It's usually a shove."

There are lots of things wrong here.

First, Fout’s first two sentences:

"I got a text, and I responded to it because it was something important. It was something that was on a deadline situation, OK.”

No Dale, not okay.  If you are on a deadline, don’t go to the theater.

YOU ARE NOT PERMITTED TO TEXT DURING A MOVIE.

You are told so prior to the movie. I don’t care how close you held the phone to your chest.

YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO TEXT DURING A MOVIE.

If you’re on a deadline, stay home or set your goddamn phone to vibrate.  When you feel the vibration, get up and leave the theater. Then text.

YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO TEXT DURING A MOVIE.

I also have a problem with a grown man suing a woman half his size for an assault which took place from a sitting position when, by his own admission, it did not include the punch or slap that he most certainly deserved.

A shove, Dale? From one bolted-down theater seat to another?

Have you forgotten what it is to be a man?

Texting in movie theaters has become an conundrum for me as well. When people choose to talk in theaters, either on the phone or to one another, I always go on the offensive to stop them. Standing up, I point myself in the direction of the offenders and let them have it, secure in the knowledge that the voices that I am hearing are surely being heard by others, and therefore I am doing everyone a favor by silencing them despite my temporary disruption.

I received a round of applause once for letting two women in the back row have it.

I once frightened an entire group of teenagers from a theater for talking during the show.

But texting is new and challenging for me. Yes, the glow of the goddamn cellphone is disturbing me, but it might only be disturbing me. The phone might be angled in such a way that only I can see it. If I were to rise and verbally assault the offender, as I have done in the past, I might be creating an even larger disruption that the rest of the theater does not need or want.

And the glow of a cellphone can reach far and wide, so in order to stop these idiots like Dale from disturbing the movie, I might have to talk over two or three rows of people just to get the offenders attention.

It’s a real problem. I’m still not sure what to do in these case.

But I have a proposal:

I would like movie theaters to run a new “No texting” request prior to the movie. It would require the assistance of a well-known, well-respected, utterly unimpeachable actor.

I choose Matt Damon, but others will do as well.

Damon comes on the screen and says the following (in his original Boston accent):

Hi, I’m Matt Damon. Thanks for coming to the movies today. Listen folks, don’t turn on your cellphone until the movie is over. No talking, no texting, no checking IMDB halfway through the film to see what other movie you saw that guy in. None of that nonsense. Okay?

And listen, if you do turn on your cellphone to talk or text, I am charging the rest of the theater audience, all of you decent, sane, reasonable people who would never be so stupid as to start texting or talking during a movie, to immediately put a stop to it. Call that idiot out. Tell them to put the damn phone away. Shame the jackass into doing the right thing. And feel secure in the knowledge that you will be supported by the rest of your theater going brethren. And me.  

Right everybody?

The people who make these movies have worked too hard to have their labors spoiled by some dumbass who can’t wait to text, and you have spent too much money to see this movie to let some dumbass spoil your enjoyment with his or her cellphone. 

Sometimes it’s easier to take a stand when you are given permission to and when you are guaranteed support. I hereby give you permission, and your fellow audience members are now charged with instantly supporting you.

Go ahead dimwit.  I dare you to text or talk now.   

Enjoy the movie, folks.

My friends think I’m crazy, but I honestly believe that a message like this, delivered by an actor like Damon, would solve almost all our talking and texting problems.

Admittedly, it probably would not have deterred Dale, but no solution is ever 100% effective.

Any man who is willing to sue a woman for a tap or even a shove in a movie theater after being stupid enough to text is beyond help.

In Dale’s case, the woman should have clobbered him.

And I think Matt Damon would agree.

Three simple rules to guarantee a successful wedding

There are many ways to ensure success (or disaster) at your wedding. After almost two decades of working as a wedding DJ and minister, with hundreds of weddings under my belt, I have seen them all.

Perhaps I’ll write a book about it someday. Oh the stories that I could tell…

Last night’s wedding was an enormous success and a great deal of fun, and so I thought I’d share three rules that the bride and groom followed to ensure that their day went off without a hitch. _______________________________________

1.  Give yourself enough time to enjoy your wedding. For yesterday’s couple, this meant a 2:00 PM ceremony and a 5:00 PM reception, giving them plenty of time for a relaxed, stress-free photo session in between ceremony and reception. It also allowed them the unusual pleasure of joining their guests for the cocktail hour, which every bride and groom secretly craves but rarely gets.

Yes, this means that your guests will have to find a way to fill two unscheduled hours in the afternoon.

And yes, it will probably put some parent’s knickers in a bunch, as they tend to be more concerned about the opinions of friends and family when it comes to the wedding than that of their children (What will Aunt Myrtle think?).

Too bad.

Most people can fill the unscheduled time without much trouble, and it’s a small price to pay to ensure that one of the most important days of your life is relaxing and fun.

Last night’s couple also booked a six hour reception, which I think is always a good idea. Though the five hour reception is considerably more common, it can often feel rushed, especially if there has been an unexpected delay somewhere in the day (which is not uncommon). It’s always easier to end a wedding 30 minutes early if the bride and groom are getting tired rather than scrambling to extend a wedding an extra hour when you are supposed to be focused on celebrating.

You’ve spent a year or more and untold amounts of money on the wedding.  Give yourself an extra hour to enjoy it. _______________________________________

2.  Spend time together. I know this seems obvious, but I have seen many, many couples spend the majority of their weddings apart from one another. The most common scenario places the bride on the dance floor, dancing the night away, while the groom is hanging out on the patio or leaning against the bar, chatting with friends, but the variations and blame for these situations are unending. I advise couples to spend as much time together as possible during their reception, and at some point, step away from the celebration and spend a few moments alone, watching friends and family celebrate from afar. Elysha and I did this at our wedding, and it remains one of our favorite moments from the day.

Last night’s couple understood this rule well.  They spent almost every moment of their wedding side by side, holding hands, kissing and laughing together. _______________________________________

3.  Smile. Some couples smile their way through their wedding and others worry their way through. I like to tell couples to do all the worrying before the wedding day, and then trust the professionals who you have hired to execute your plan.

If you spend your wedding day following-up on your vendors and worrying about what happens next, your will have spent your wedding day working and not celebrating.

Hire people you trust, and then trust them to do their jobs so you can smile your day away.

Last night’s couple never stopped smiling.

I still support ferocity

A week ago I wrote a post about parenting. Specifically, I outlined what I thought it took to be the best parent. 

The response I received to that post (and there was a lot) was evenly split.  It consisted of:

1. Praise over the ideas expressed in the post (one woman told me that she will be placing a copy of the post in all future baby shower cards)
2. Doubt and downright disagreement over the supposition that there is one best way to parent

Surprisingly, no one objected to my recommended style of parenting.  Opposition only resided in the notion that there was one best way to parent.   

Specifically, people said that while my description of ideal parenting might be effective, parents who have taken opposing positions have also raised children who grew into loving, caring, productive adults.  Therefore, no single method of parenting is necessarily correct, and different parenting styles might be required for different children.   

I’ve been thinking about this argument ever since. 

It is true that a less earnest, less deliberate parenting style like the one I described has proven to be effective for many, many children.  As a teacher of thirteen years who has gotten to know hundreds of kids and their families, I can attest to this.   

In fact, my parents barely parented me.  My mother and evil step-father could not have been less ferocious about the way they raised me, and I am quite pleased with the way I turned out. 

But here’s the thing:

I still think that I am right.

I think that there are many good and perfectly acceptable ways of parenting that will yield outstanding results, and I also feel that despite universally-acknowledged bad parenting, kids can turn out just fine as well.  But I still believe that there is probably one best way of parenting, and my philosophy comes closest to it.

This doesn’t mean that other ways, including ill-advised means of parenting, can’t be effective.  It simply means that the chances of them being effective are reduced.   

For example, we all know or have heard of someone who lived well into his nineties while smoking two packs of cigarettes a day

Does this mean that smoking is a good thing for some people, or does it mean that bad decisions can still produce positive results?

And could the smoker who died at 95 have lived to 110 had he not smoked?

Measuring lost potential is an impossible task.

Although I am pleased with the way I turned out and am at least moderately successful in terms of meeting my life goals, what could I have been had there been books in books in my childhood home and help with my homework and parents who did not allow me to stay out at all hours on a school night?

What if my parents had attended my Little League games and track meets and fed me more than bologna on bread for lunch everyday and required me to practice my instrument and read every night?

What if I had been sent to college immediately after high school instead of having to claw and scrape my way to get there years later?

Where might I be today?

And yet my mother might say that her style of parenting worked out just fine for me, and who could argue?  Her son is a successful teacher and novelist and he owns a small business.  He is married to a great woman and is raising a bright, precocious, well behaved daughter.

But this doesn’t mean that her parenting decisions were right.  While I have managed to survive and thrive, my sister has had a considerably tougher life and my brother disappeared five years ago and has not been seen or heard of since.

I managed to beat the odds, but they were certainly stacked against me.      

No, I suspect that there is a best way of parenting, and I suspect that my philosophy of ferocity is close to it.

And I know this makes some people angry, especially if they have adopted an opposing philosophy, because parenting is a very personal matter, and to question one’s decisions in regards to their children treads on dangerous ground.

But relax. Just because I think I am right doesn’t mean that I am right.

I mean, I am right, or close to it.  But you can think otherwise.  

And it also doesn’t mean that I always adhere to this philosophy.  There are nights when my ferocity wanes as I battle with my daughter over brushing her teeth and rainy days when I cave into her demands to watch Sesame Street when I know that we cannot play outside.

Having a philosophy and adhering to it all of the time are two entirely different things.

I am not always as ferocious as I should be. 

But I still believe that I should be.

New business idea: Rorschach tee-shirts

My daughter does not know what a ninja is yet, nor is she able to discern the face embedded in my Ask a Ninja tee-shirt. Instead, she sees three separate  blobs of white ink, and whenever I wear the shirt, she will stare at it until she has decided what the three blobs are. Most recently, she declared them to be (left to right) a fish, a tree and a sailboat.

But it changes every time she sees the shirt.

And I kind of love it. I am fascinated by the challenge that it presents to her creativity, and I can’t wait to hear what she will see next in those blobs.

Which leads me to my new business idea:

Rorschach-like tee-shirts for the parents of infants and toddlers.

In an effort to stimulate creativity and encourage a child to make connections and generalizations with the real world, I would produce a series of tee-shirts with Rorschach-like images for parents to wear when with their little ones.

Rather than inundating your child with brand names or your sports allegiances or even floral patterns, why not give your child something to think about?  Puzzle over.  Invent.

What do you think ?

A billion dollar idea?

Or maybe just a million?

Not-so-secret secrets to sleep

When people express envy about the fact that I only require about five hours of sleep a night and can often get by with less, I like to say that in addition to requiring less sleep, I am also a productive and efficient sleeper, and this plays an important role as well. This causes my wife to often roll her eyes, but it’s true.

While many people spend eight hours in bed, I question how much of that time is actually spent sleeping. When I ask more probing questions about a person’s sleep habits, I often find that at least some of the time that they claim is spent sleeping is actually spent watching television in bed, tossing and turning throughout the night and snoozing in the bed in the morning after the alarm has gone off.

When I say that I sleep for five hours, that means that I spend five hours in bed, and almost every second of that time is spent sleeping.

I can fall asleep in about 30 seconds on almost every night (as my eye-rolling wife can attest), and when my alarm goes off (or more often, when I awaken prior to the alarm going off) I immediately climb from bed.

For me, five hours in bed truly equals five hours of sleep.

I find that this is not the case for many, many people.

Yes, insomnia is a legitimate medical problem for many people.

But I also think that at least some of these troubled sleepers (and non- insomniacs) could benefit from a few less pills and a healthy dose of my simple sleep suggestions, which are not actually my suggestions, but the suggestions of sleep experts that are frequently ignored.

The three suggestions to which I adhere are:

1. Exercise vigorously for at least 30 minutes every day. I promise that this, more than anything else, will lead to more restful sleep. If you can’t find 30 minutes a day to exercise, sleep 30 minutes less and exercise then. The 30 minute loss of sleep will be more than negated by the improved quality of your sleep and overall health.
2. Do not eat anything two hours or more before bedtime. Avoid caloric intake of any kind.
3. Never watch television in bed. Never read in bed. Never use an iPhone, iPad or similar device in bed. Train your body and mind to think as your bed as a place to sleep and nothing more.

That’s it. Simple, right?

Except I have found that people do not like simple answers when it comes to improving their lifestyle.

Over the past two years, I have lost almost 40 pounds and managed to keep every bit of it off without much trouble.

When asked how I did it, I tell people that I eat a little less, I exercise a little more, and for a time, I counted calories.

This answer is rarely greeted with enthusiasm, because it sounds both too easy and too hard.

Too easy because it does not require a person to begin eating only bacon, running 32 miles a week or fasting for three days on guava juice, but also too hard because it involves changes to a person’s entire lifestyle.

Every meal should contain less food. Every day should contain more exercise.

For many people, fasting on guava juice and become a marathoner would be easier.

Sleeping is the same way.

You have to start exercising every day.

You can’t eat Doritos or drink wine while watching television at night anymore.

You can’t read or send a couple emails or watch the evening news or that Seinfeld rerun in bed anymore before turning out the light.

And yes, you can start sleeping better. And perhaps less.

Blue Stripy is my favorite pair of underwear. What’s yours?

Am I the only one who thinks it odd that our underwear drawers are filled with underwear of varying types, styles and appearances? This morning, I put on my favorite pair of underwear. It's my favorite primarily because of its fit. It’s a pair of striped-blue boxer briefs, and it adheres to my body ideally in every way.

I have other pairs of underwear of identical construct (purchased in the same package as Blue Stripy) and while they are beloved as well, I like Blue Stripy the best of all for his color as well his fit.

Blue Stripy has it all.

Finding Blue Stripy in my underwear drawer is a great way to start my day.

image

But it occurs to me:

Why don’t I simply own twenty pairs of Blue Stripy?

There are many mornings when Blue Stripy and his brethren are unavailable for use, and I am forced to don a suitable though not-so-favored pair of underwear. These pairs of underwear are slightly longer, shorter, looser, tighter, or made from a slightly less elastic material than Blue Stripy, and while they all adequately perform their job, I avoid these pairs whenever Blue Stripy and his comrades in arms are available.

So why not just populate my wardrobe with a platoon of Blue Stripy and make every day a good day?

The problem is that assembling twenty pairs of Blue Stripy would be difficult because most men’s underwear is purchased in packages of 3-6 pairs, and each pair of underwear in these packages is typically different from the rest:

Same material and same construction but different design. A cornucopia of underwear colors and patterns.

Why this is the case is beyond me. 

If we all have a favorite pair of underwear (and you know you do), wouldn’t it make sense to simply fill our drawers with that specific pair?

And wouldn’t it be nice if the international underwear conglomerate made it their mission to provide each customer with the opportunity to purchase a bushel of their favorite underwear rather than ending up with a mishmash of excellent to average to below-average underwear?

I was unable to find this mythic underwear conglomerate or any similar  underwear governing body to which I could foist my appeal, but I did manage to turn up an Underwear Industry Report. 

I chose not to read it. I’ve spent too much time on the Internet already.

More importantly, I suspect that Blue Stripy does not make an appearance in the report.

But perhaps you all might want to join me in the search of your own Blue Stripy: the ideal pair of underwear that matches your body and sense of style. 

If found (and perhaps, like me, you  are fortunate enough to have already found it), I encourage you to invest the money and time in purchasing as many pairs as possible, while simultaneously jettisoning all the substandard underwear that currently fulfills your underwear drawer.

I have made it my mission to search for Blue Stripy anytime I enter a store that sells underwear, and if I am ever lucky enough to find him again, I will be purchasing him in bulk.

Life if hard enough. Don’t we all deserve to begin everyday by donning our favorite pair of underwear?

7 perfectly good reasons why the use of a tanning booth is acceptable

Tanning has gotten a significantly bad rap as of late, primarily due to concerns regarding skin cancer. The FDA has issued health warnings related to tanning and are considering heightening the warnings on the tanning beds themselves. Despite these dangers, I think there are some perfectly acceptable reasons to use a tanning booth on a regular basis.

They are:

1. You are so terribly insecure that you must modulate the tone of your skin in order to feel good about yourself.

2. You have always wanted your skin to be darker than your natural lip color.

3. Your internal fragility does not permit you to stand alongside another person whose skin might be more artificially darkened than your own.

4. You are physically incapable of engaging in the kind of outdoor activity that might provide you with a natural darkening of your skin. Rather than swimming, playing tennis, golfing, walking, or mowing the lawn, you simply prefer to lie down and bake for 30 minutes like a Thanksgiving Day turkey.

5. You’re going for the wise and distinguished look at an abnormally young age and are therefore targeting the premature aging that the FDA has linked to tanning.

6. You are a serious long-term planner, intent on committing suicide sometime after the age of 55 but via a more natural means than gun, pills or noose. Considering the social stigma now attached to smoking, tanning was your next best option.

7. You take great pleasure in lying to yourself and others by claiming that tanning provides that fabled base to keep you from burning later on in the summer, when we all know that (1) a base does not prevent burning and (2) there is an affordable and readily-available product called sunscreen that  also mitigates burning and prevents skin cancer at the same time.

See?  Plenty of good reasons to hop into a tanning booth today!

Don't let your child move back home. Period.

According to a Department of Labor poll, some 85% of college students will be moving back home at some point in their lives. I’m stunned.

And frankly disappointed.

Yes, I did not have a home to return to after I moved out at the age of eighteen, and yes, I was homeless for a short time, so perhaps my view of the situation is slightly (or highly) jaded, but moving back home with my parents seems like the absolute last thing that I would’ve done regardless of the circumstances.

Of course, if you’re living at home in order to finish a college degree or care for an ailing parent, these are different types of circumstances.

But if you’re finished with college and ready to make it on your own, make it on your own, damn it. Keeping a roof over your head and food on the table should be within the grasp of almost any college graduate who is willing to work as much as possible, in whatever job or jobs are necessary in order to survive.

In order to deal with a situation like this, Time Magazine offers:

When College Grads Move Home: Six Ways to Get Them Off the Couch

It’s a stupid list of a bunch of commonsense and uninspiring ideas that are frankly a waste of digital ink.

The advice includes things like don’t let your kid make a mess of the place, help your kid get a job (but don’t help too much), and make your kid pay his or her share of the bills.

Real revelatory stuff here.

But how about this instead:

Don’t let your kid move back home.

Advise him to find a roommate (or three) and rent a rundown apartment in a less-than-desirable section of town.

Tell him to negotiate with the landlord for a reduction in rent if he pays in cash.

Remind him that furniture is not immediately necessary. If he has a bed, a refrigerator and a stove, he is good to go.

Tell him about my friend, George, who put his programming skills to work at a low-paying, entry-level position on the night shift at a large insurance company, and who then worked at McDonald’s in the mornings and on the weekends in order to make ends meet. This, plus two roommates and a tight budget that included no cable television and the most basic of cellphones, allowed George to survive and continue to interview for better paying jobs. He worked like this for two full years before finally finding a well paying job with regular hours and excellent benefits at a different insurance company.

Tell your kid that I’ve known about fifty Georges in my life, myself included, and none of us have starved.

And as far as I know, only I ended up (albeit briefly) homeless,

Then remind your kid that life isn’t supposed to be simple or easy, and that it is only through struggle that we gain the confidence and strength in order to succeed.

Tell him that there will come a day when he looks back upon his struggles with a smile. Tell him that my former roommate and I look fondly upon the years we spent eating elbow macaroni and day-old bread while sitting beneath the same pile blankets, leaning against one another in order to stay warm because we could not afford to turn on the heat in the middle of winter.

The pipes had burst, girls refused to come to our apartment because of the lack of heat, and we were often hungry, but we laugh today and say in all sincerity that those were some of the best times of our lives, struggling to survive.

Most important, those were the times that taught me to appreciate what I have now and to work hard to protect it.

There is nothing wrong with providing your struggling kid with home cooked meals and the occasional bailout when he is in trouble, but do it under his roof and not your own.

Don’t deny him the glorious and life-changing opportunity to struggle.

Get a second job.

The Times published a piece about the need for people in this economy to have more than one job. The lead reads:

When someone asks Roger Fierro “What do you do?” — which he knows is shorthand for “Where do you work?” — he laughs. Then he says, “I do everything.”

Eight months ago I wrote a post with a lead that read:

Whenever I play golf, I find myself meeting new people and having to answer the question, "What do you do for a living?"

This is tricky for me. I often think of myself as having at least three jobs.

Had I been writing my post in the third person, our leads might have been identical.

Even so, I was unimpressed with the Times piece only because the need and/or desire to possess more than one job is hardly new. I know many, many people who have had two or more jobs for years.

Last night, for example, the woman who waited on me and my wife was working two jobs in addition to her position as waitress in order to save money for a house.

Multiple jobs is actually quite common.

In fact, there has almost never been a time in my life when I had just one job.

As a result, I frequently counsel my friends to always have at least two jobs:

One primary gig and another dream career on the side.

Regardless of the seeming stability of your primary career, you never know when catastrophe can strike. Businesses fail. Paradigms shift. Industries crumble. Having a second career is the safety net that will save you in the event of an emergency.

Either that or you can move in with your parents.

But for those of us without the parental safety net, the second career can be a lifesaver.

Most important, developing that second career provides you with options and variety that a person with only one job does not have. As much as you love your job, there is no telling how you will feel in two, five or ten years.

Options are always good.

I’m not saying to work 80 hours a week. You can work 40 hours at your primary job and 5 hours at your secondary career. Just have another iron in the fire, and make damn sure it’s something that you love.

This is how I managed to start my own DJ company and become a novelist, life coach, public speaker, and minister.

These were dream jobs that I developed while teaching.

My current dream job is professional best man.

Still looking for clients.

I can make even the most hardened FBI agent crazy

The members of the Westboro Baptist Church—the lunatic fringe group that pickets soldiers’ funerals with hate speech— was invited to Quantico Marine Base in Virginia to assist in training agents on how to stay calm when dealing with a witness or suspect with whom they would “have a strong, visceral disagreement.” The program was quickly ended when FBI agents balked at the idea of working with hate mongers.

But if FBI agents truly require this kind of training, I have a solution:

Me.

While I despise everything that the Westboro Baptist Church stands for, I have been playing Devil’s Advocate for most of my life, and I am perfectly capable of assuming some of the most ludicrous and offensive positions known to man for the sake of national security.

I may not believe in the requisite lunatic position, but I promise to convince you otherwise.

For a nominal fee, of course.

And travel expenses.