When writing the date, I've started adding the abbreviation CE after the year
CE stands for Common Era. It's the non-religious version of AD.
January 16, 2016 CE
01.16.2015 CE
16-Jan-2016 CE
I can't tell you how much fun this has been. It confuses people. Makes them a little crazy. Upsets the apple cart. Causes their two eyebrows to scrunch together as one.
It's often the little things that can be the most amusing.
One of the best ideas that I heard in all of 2015 was this:
When a friend of mine gave birth to her first child, one of her friends sent her a gift.
It was a book. This book:
Possibly one of the cruelest jokes ever.
I plan to spend 2016 desperately seeking opportunities to send other Bill Cosby titles to my friends and family. I was tempted to add it to my 2016 list of goals, but I decided that it was trite and ultimately unproductive.
But I'm still doing it.
Used copies, of course. Most of his books are out of print, and I wouldn't want to financially support Cosby.
Can we all agree that parents who actively oppose their child's interracial, inter-religious, or same sex marriage are awful people?
They are still mothers and father, perhaps still worthy of love and respect, and possibly possessing many admirable and endearing qualities, but they are also awful, disgusting, rotten people.
We can all agree to this. Right?
Because if enough of us agree and make our position loud and clear, perhaps these parents will at least be shamed into keeping their awfulness to themselves and stop making their children's lives so difficult.
I was standing in a hallway, waiting in line for my flu shot, when a colleague walked by.
"Are you getting a flu shot?" I asked her.
"I'd like to," she said. "But I hate giving out my social security number and birth date and address and all that. It makes me nervous."
I laughed - not because she was nervous of identity theft - but because of how simple a solution there was to her problem.
"Why not just lie?" I asked. "Give a fake social security number. A fake address. Give a fake name if you want. Do you really think anyone is going to verify your information after you've received your flu shot? And even if they do, how would they ever trace it back to you? And even if they did, what would happen? Would they take the flu shot back? Have you arrested? Execute you?"
"Really?" she said. "Just give a fake number?"
I explained that for more almost two decades, whenever I am required to complete a time sheet for work above and beyond my salaried hours, I have always filled in the line for "Position" with the word "upright" rather than "teacher."
Dozens upon dozens of time sheets, all completed the same way over the course of almost 20 years, and never a word from anyone.
"Unless I'm dealing with the IRS or my insurance company, I almost never give out my real social security number," I explained. "When I rent a cart for golf and am required to sign a waiver, I always sign my friend's name and provide his phone number. Other than my wife, it's the only other phone number I know by heart."
"Really?" she asked.
I explained that the bureaucrats of the world are obsessed with gathering data but oftentimes have little interest in determining if the data is accurate. It's just boxes in need of checking and nothing more.
I could tell that she liked the idea, but I could also see that this was something new to her. There was a moral hazard at play.
Teachers are often rules followers. A vast majority of them - at least at the elementary level - are formerly well behaved, hard working students who wanted to please their teachers. They became teachers because they loved their teachers and loved school. The idea of falsifying information on an official document is something that most teachers wouldn't even consider, despite legitimate concerns over identity theft and database security.
In the end, she decided not to take my advice. She skipped the flu shot and went on her way, unprotected from the oncoming flu season.
It was a victory for the flu virus, which managed to preserve another vector for distribution thanks to the fear of identity theft and an unwillingness to falsify documents and deceive medical personnel.
It must be a difficult life when you can't freely lie to authorities and amuse yourself by completing paperwork in ridiculous ways.
Passion Natural Water-Based Lubricant, in a 55 gallon container could be yours for $1,175.82 from Amazon. Two day shipping available (though I pity the UPS driver who needs to bring a 55 gallon barrel of lube onto your stoop).
The New York Times writes about how some colleges and universities have stopped requiring SAT scores when applying to their schools.
“For all the gripes some people have with the SAT and ACT as gauges of aptitude, the tests are certainly standardizing forces in one regard: taking them has become a shared moment of anxiety — a rite of passage, in its way — for students wishing to go to a United States college or university.
Yet some students defy this rule. The list of colleges and universities dropping the admissions requirement of standardized test scores continues to extend each year, and with it, a growing number of prospective applicants are treating the testing process as an optional exercise.”
I have never taken the SAT.
In fact, I have never completed a college application or written a college essay, despite the fact that I have an Associate's degree in liberal arts from Manchester Community College, a Bachelor's degree in English from Trinity College, a teaching license from St. Joseph's University, and a Master's degree in educational technology from American Intercontinental University.
Three degrees and a teaching license, and yet I have never taken a standardized test and never completed a college essay.
You could do this, too, if you followed the same path I did.
1. Attend a community college.
For me, it took me five years to finally make it to college following high school. You don't need to wait five years, but for me, I had no choice. Poverty, a lack of parental support, homelessness, post traumatic stress disorder following a violent robbery, and an arrest and trial for a crime I did not commit prevented me from attending college any earlier.
I suggest you skip all that and just go to college.
Community college does not require an SAT score and does not require students to complete formal applications like four year institutions.
2. Do exceedingly well in community college.
For me, this meant an 3.92 GPA. I was also Treasurer of the Student Senate and President of the National Honor Society. I was also a Truman Scholarship finalist, a USA Today Academic All American, and the Connecticut debate champion for two consecutive years.
This is not an impossible task. I also worked more than 40 hours a week managing a McDonald's restaurant while attending community college. If I could work full time and still do well, I am convinced that most students could do the same if they truly applied themselves and had a modicum of parental support.
3. Accept an invitation to transfer to a four year institution.
Upon graduating from Manchester Community College, I received scholarship offers on the strength of my community college performance from several Connecticut schools, including Trinity, Wesleyan, and Yale. I accepted the invitation and scholarship from Trinity because the school had a program designed for nontraditional students like myself and was close enough to home and work to make travel convenient. I would still be working full-time while attending Trinity (and would soon add another 20 hours a week in the Student Writing Center as a paid tutor), so proximity to home and work was important.
If I didn't have to work in order to support myself, Yale would've been my first choice, but it was not meant to be. I still have the letter from Yale inviting me to attend and offering me a scholarship, but that was as close to the fabled university as I would ever get until I told a story at Yale last year for The Moth as part of a conference on storytelling and began working with other departments on communications and storytelling.
4. Don't complete an application. Don't write college essays.
It turns out that if a college invites you to transfer to their institution, they don't require you to apply. I filled out a few forms in the Registrar's Office, but it was about 15 minutes of paperwork and a small fee. All but one of my classes from Manchester Community College transferred to Trinity, making me a junior when I arrived. It would take me three years to complete my Bachelor's degree at Trinity, but this was only because I also completed a teaching degree at St. Joseph's University in addition to a degree in English.
5. Graduate.
It should also be noted that my teaching license - which amounted to a second major - came thanks to a consortium of colleges in the Hartford area. Students from Trinity, St. Joseph's, and the University of Hartford were permitted to take classes at each other's schools. Most students never took a class via the consortium, and those that did took one or two classes at most, only when the class was not offered at their school or did not fit their schedule.
I took advantage of the relationship between the schools and completed a full major's worth of educational classes at St. Joseph's in order to graduate with both a degree in English and a teaching license. As a result, I did not need to complete an application for St. Joseph's University, since the grades for those classes appeared on my Trinity transcripts.
My Master's degree was completed at an online university (though several credits came from Trinity College and Central Connecticut State University), and the online university did not require SAT scores or a formal application.
Just a large tuition payment.
It should also be noted that I attended Manchester Community College for free based upon my financial need, and thanks to the scholarship offered by Trinity, I paid almost nothing to attend that school (and therefore St. Joseph's University as well).
So... want a path to college that eliminates the SAT, college applications, college essays, and tuition?
There you have it.
It wasn't easy, and I acknowledge that it might not work for everyone, but if you don't have to work 40-60 hours a week supporting yourself as you make your way through college (while also launching a DJ company in that time), it might not be too bad.
I’m a timely person.
I’m timely because I think it’s rude to be late.
Even worse, I think it’s despicable for a person to be consistently late. The consistently late are a selfish pack of uncivilized heathens who should be pay higher taxes and be forbidden from ever celebrating Thanksgiving.
Consistently late is also a sign that you suck at life. It’s perhaps the clearest sign of all. If you’re a member of the consistently late clan, you should know that we all think this, and we despise you for it. We may like or even love you, but we despise you, too, for your selfishness and inability to act like a decent human being.
TIME offers 9 Habits of People Who Are Always on Time. It’s a good list. I particularly like numbers 1, 2, 4, and 8. Adopt these habits and you’ll be much better off.
Allow me to add a tenth to the list:
Prepare yourself to leave the house well in advance of actually leaving the house.
For example, if you’re meeting friends for dinner, and you plan to leave the house at 6:00, don’t wait until 5:30 to get ready, even if it normally takes you about 30 minutes to get ready.
This makes no sense. Frankly, it’s insane.
Requiring 30 minutes to get ready is also insane, but that’s an entirely different set of problems.
If the last thing you do before leaving the house and prepare to leave the house, all it takes is one setback in your preparation process to cause you to be late. One item of clothing that unexpectedly needs ironing. One wardrobe reconsideration. One spill. One hangnail. One malfunctioning hairdryer. One unavoidable phone call. One screaming child.
If you plan to leave the house at 6:00, why not get ready to leave at 4:00? Just be ready. Whatever benefit you think you are deriving from showering and getting dressed and applying makeup just prior to leaving the house, I promise you that you are the only person noticing it.
More importantly, the people who you are meeting would undoubtedly favor less attention to your physical appearance and more attention to your timeliness.
In fact, valuing your physical appearance over arriving on time is the epitome of selfish.
“I made you wait so my hair could look just right.”
Disgusting, yet it’s essentially what people do all the time.
I’ve proposed my idea to several of my friends and colleagues over the past week, and almost universally, they think it’s a ridiculous idea. “Get ready two hours before I leave the house?” said one. “That’s stupid.”
The only two people who have agreed with the merit of this proposal are the two people in my life who I can depend upon the most to be on time.
One woman and one man. Always on time, regardless of weather or traffic.
Also two of the most impressive and accomplished people who I know.
I’m hired from time to time to deliver talks and teach workshops on a variety of topics. I’ve delivered inspirational speeches. Commencement addresses. I’ve hosted conferences and story slams. I’ve taught workshops on storytelling, teaching, writing, personal productivity, and more. And while I’m hardly an expert on anything in particular, I’ve always felt that if given the time, I can be effective on almost any topic.
The toughest talk I ever delivered was the inspirational address at the end of a policy conference on human trafficking.
It turned out well, but I was not without some trepidation.
Last night, I dreamt that I had arrived at a weekend retreat, thinking that I would be speaking about the effective use of storytelling in the classroom.
Instead, I discovered that I had been mistakenly assigned a six hour workshop entitled:
‘The Joyful and Effective Use of Condoms in the Latter Years of Life”
Rather than panicking or attempting to correct the mistake, I spent the rest of the dream planning my presentation, finding ways to fill all six hours of the scheduled workshop with informative, entertaining, and persuasive material about condom use in the latter years.
And by the end of the dream, it was done. Ready to go. And it was good.
I’m a little disappointed that I won’t ever be able to put my plan into action.
Unless, of course, you are a conference organizer and think ‘The Joyful and Effective Use of Condoms in the Latter Years of Life” would be a compelling offering.
If that’s the case, call me. I’m ready to go.
A tweet that I saw a couple days ago:
@DaveHolmes: Right now my friends and I are sending vague texts to the people in our contacts whose names we don't recognize.
Brilliant. Right? I sent two yesterday. Both said the same thing:
Can you believe that guy? Does he really think we are going to believe that?
I have yet to receive a response from either contact.
Daniel Engber of Slate offers an explanation as to why people behave like idiots before a snowstorm, rushing off to a grocery store that will undoubtedly be open at some point the next day.
The word is hunkering, in the specifically American sense of digging in and taking shelter. It’s the anxious form of self-indulgence, where fear is fuel to make us cozy.
I agree that hunkering is part of it, but I also think there is something even larger at play:
People want to be involved in momentous events. They want to feel like they played a part in a historical moment. By role playing panic – which is essentially what a person does when he or she is willing to wait in an endless line for milk that will be readily available in 24 hours – people feel like an essential part of the oncoming snowstorm. They are like actors, committing to a part that their friends, colleagues and the local media have been undoubtedly hyping for three days.
It’s no fun to be liaise-faire. Being able to remain calm in an actual emergency is a skill that is valued by all, but remaining calm in a fake emergency is no fun for anyone involved. It just makes the people pretending that they are in the midst of an emergency feel stupid or angry or both. It’s like when little kids are running around the playground, pretending that a dragon is chasing them, but one kid just stands there and shouts, “There is no dragon! There is no dragon!”
But there is no dragon, people. New England just experienced one of the worst winters in terms of snowfall ever, yet in my part of Connecticut – which received near-record snowfalls – there was never a storm that kept the roads from being cleared and the stores opened within 24 hours, and most of the time, considerably less than that.
In most cases, the roads were impassible for a few hours at best and the stores never actually closed.
My wife and I never went shopping before a storm this winter – despite the fact that we have two small children who drink a lot of milk and eat a lot of bread – and we were never wont for either item. If you don’t have enough food in your house to survive 8-24 hours, the problem isn’t the storm. It’s with the way you shop for groceries.
If you’re looking for something to panic about, why not make it climate change. I realize that it won’t allow you to go shopping (which also plays a role in the pleasure of pre-storm pretend panic), and you won’t find yourself in the midst of the pretend panicked nearly as often, but at least you’ll be panicking over something that is real and worthy of your concern.
On their death beds, the people of my generation will lament the time the spent driving – sometimes daily – from grocery store to grocery store, chasing the freshest produce, the finest meats, the best seafood, and the lowest prices, when they could’ve been spending that time reading, watching a film, climbing a mountain, writing a novel, playing with their kids, or having sex.
My mother shopped in one grocery store for all of her life. She went shopping for groceries once a week. She made a plan. Made a list. Shopped. Moved on with her life.
Today she would be considered an aberration. An outlier. A dinosaur.
There are grocery stores that have managed to place almost every grocery item you’ll ever need under one roof, and yet people in my generation now prefer to shop in stores that deliberately avoid stocking every item, necessitating trips to multiple stores throughout the week.
It’s insane.
It seems as if more time is spent traveling between grocery stores and pushing carriage up and down aisles than is spent actually eating the food.
It makes no sense.
There are more than 30 full size or midsize grocery stores within 15 minutes of my home.
Good food is important, but time is by far our most valuable commodity. My generation has chosen to spend a significant portion of its time looking for parking spots, pushing carriages, waiting in checkout lines, and plucking food items off a multitude of shelves in a multitude of stores.
The 90 year-old versions of themselves are going to be so annoyed.
Behold the newly-revised Friendship Application 3.0.
Friendship Application 1.0 is more than five years old, and Friendship Application 2.0 is three years old, so it was time for an update.
There have been instances in previous years when it seemed as if someone in my life was on the verge of becoming a genuine friend. This is all well and good, but what if the person turned out to be a Jets fan or a militant vegan or someone who watched five hours of television a day?
I’m not opposed to making a new friend, but I have standards. Thus the Friendship Application was born.
If I feel that someone is on the verge of becoming my friend, I will send an email that reads:
Dear _____________,
Over the past couple weeks, I’ve noticed that we may be on the verge of becoming friends. In order to ensure that you are proper friendship material, please complete the attached application. A score of 100 or above will indicate that this friendship can proceed.Less than 100 and I will be forced to terminate this potential friendship.
Good luck!
It’s important to note that all current friends are grandfathered in and need not score 100 in order to remain my friends. This is merely an acknowledgement of my limited time and the value that I place on my current friends. A new friend could potentially infringe upon my already limited time with them, so it’s important to determine if the return on investment is reasonable.
Some items of note in regards to my criteria:
Just a thought, but perhaps your Emergency and Evacuation Plan map shouldn’t indicate your present position in an amorphous speech bubble that seems to engender a sense of flame, heat, and panic, and shouts the three words with the use of an exclamation point.
The message should be: “You are here.”
This one reads: “AH! You are here! Right next to the fire! The heat! The flames! The humanity! You’re all going to die!”
After reading about the doctor who refused to treat a six day-old baby because the parents were lesbians, my first thought, which I tweeted alongside a link to the piece from Slate, was this:
Evil scumbag.
And so I starting thinking:
Do I really believe that? Are the bigots who deny or wish to deny homosexuals the same rights as heterosexuals inherently evil?
I think they might be.
Racists are evil. Right?
Denying children of color the same educational opportunities as whites simply because of the color of their skin is evil.
Imposing the death penalty on a person of color while imposing a prison sentence on white defendant who is guilty of the same crime is evil.
Refusing to hire a person for a job because of the color of their skin or paying them less than a white applicant of equal ability is evil.
Slavery was evil. Apartheid was evil. Jim Crow was evil. Denying any basic human right or equal access to privileges afforded to the majority based upon the color of a person’s skin is evil.
Right?
I think the same probably applies to discrimination based upon sexual preference.
Denying a person the ability to adopt a child or receive medical treatment or marry or worship in a public place or benefit from legal protections afforded to heterosexuals simply because of their sexual preference is not only ignorant and cruel, but I think it’s probably evil, too.
No, I’m sure it’s evil.
There are people – including the evil scumbag doctor who refused to treat the infant – who will cite religious reasons for their discriminatory beliefs, but I have read the Bible cover to cover three times and know that these people – or at least the Christians – are simply cherry-picking the parts of Scripture most convenient to their belief system. The New Testament alone is enough to contradict the Biblical admonitions against homophobia. But even if you ignore Jesus’s command to “Love thy neighbor” or his warning to “Let him without sin cast the first stone,” the hypocrisy required to discriminate against homosexuals while still allowing adulterers and anyone who works on Sunday to continue to live negates any excuse for discrimination based upon Biblical doctrine.
The Biblical excuse for homophobia and discrimination is nonsense.
No, I think discrimination of any kind against homosexuals is evil, and anyone engaging in this behavior or supporting those who engage in or defend in this form of discrimination are evil, too.
Does their evilness rise to Hitler-like levels? Of course not.
This is not to say that these people are not wonderful parents and beloved colleagues and gentle souls who bring warmth and light to the world in many respects, but their desire to deny people basic human rights based upon their sexual preference is evil.
It’s time we start calling it what it is. If logic and reason and common decency isn’t enough to convince these bigots to change their minds and afford equal rights to all people, maybe shame will do the job.
Maybe the label “evil scumbag” will do some good.
Business Insider published a list of 9 unfair advantages that help people get ahead.
I have benefited from five of them, though I would argue that some are not as clear as others, and there are a couple missing from the list.
1. A need for little sleep: While it’s true that I sleep less than most people, I also am quick to point out that I maximize my sleep as well, whereas many people waste time and do a terrible job sleeping.
3. The inclination for optimism: While I have been called a curmudgeon on many occasions (and fairly so), I am actually more inclined to optimism. I tend to focus on progress made. I believe that small steps yield enormous results. I say yes to every opportunity, regardless of how ill equipped I may be to follow through on the yes. I believe in my heart that things tend to turn out well over time if you set goals, apply yourself, and work like hell.
This sense of optimism is bolstered by my perspective. When you’ve been brought back to life via CPR twice, robbed at gunpoint, homeless, and been arrested and tried for a crime you didn’t commit, the problems that stymy so many people seem meager in comparison.
“If I’m not dead or in jail, and I have a roof over my head, things can’t be that bad.”
6. The ability to resist temptation: My ability to delay gratification is powerful. This week I replaced my 2002 rear projection behemoth of a television with a $200 hand-me-down flat screen. In the same week, I finally replaced my iPhone 4 with an iPhone 6. Both of these devices should’ve been replaced years ago, but both were still working fine, despite their lack of modern-day amenities, and I have never been a person who needs the latest or greatest of anything.
I am exceptionally patient.
Except when ice cream is involved.
7. Charm: I denied possessing this unfair advantage, but in discussing this list with friends and family, it has been argued that I possess a nontraditional brand of charm that causes people to like me despite their natural instincts.
It’s true that I have many friends, but it’s also true that when you hate me, you really, really hate me. So I’m not sure.
I’m also not sure if this claim of a nontraditional brand of charm is simply an attempt at a backhanded compliment or a passive-aggressive insult.
9. The ability to selectively ignore people’s feelings: Business Insider explains that those who can ignore someone's feelings when competing against them for a promotion or in a negotiation have a better chance of doing what is best for achieving their goal.
Unfortunately, I can be ruthless when it comes to competition, and I’m quite capable of ignoring someone’s feelings in order to win. It’s not my finest quality, but I can’t deny it.
I think this tendency is also an asset when dealing with my children and my students. There are times when consequences, struggle, and even suffering are critical to a young person’s growth, but all too often parents and teachers are unable to watch children struggle because of the anger and sadness that it engenders in the child.
It’s not easy to listen to your child “cry it out” as she is learning to sleep through the night, but I did it because I knew how important it was for my children to learn to be effective sleepers. It’s hard to impose a consequence on a student that you know how difficult it will be for him or her, but better to stand firm and teach the lesson than allowing a child to believe that this world is without consequences for his or her actions.
My ability to ignore their feelings, at least to a degree, and rationalize the long term benefits over momentary relief has been helpful in this regard.
In case you didn’t read the Business Insider’s piece, the unfair advantages that I lack are nurturing parents, a photographic memory, physical attractiveness, and connections. My wife has argued that I have an excellent memory, but being able to remember events from your childhood is not the kind of memory that will get me ahead in life.
Two other advantages that I would add to the list (and that I also lack are):
The first almost always allows a person to graduate from college debt free and with a certain amount of capital and security, and the second almost always guarantees a job if needed. Both provide a safety net that only people who have lived without a safety net from an early age can truly appreciate.
Another advantage that I would add to the list is:
This is a quality that I possess in droves. While I would love for everyone in the world to adore me – and they really should – it’s my disregard for what others think about me that helps me to ignore the clutter that concerns so many people and find the time to excel.
This doesn’t mean that I don’t care if my readers enjoy my books. It doesn’t mean that I don’t want my students or my colleagues to respect me. It doesn’t mean that I don’t want my friends to love me.
It means that I’m able to go out into the world with the confidence that if I am being myself and believe in the decisions that I have made, I don’t care all that much about what others – and especially strangers – think of me. I don’t worry about the state or quality of my wardrobe or hair or car. I don’t spend time or effort trying to keep up with the Joneses. I’m not concerned about what audiences will think about me after I’ve told a mortifying story on stage as long as I’m speaking the truth.
I dare the world to like me for who I am.
This quality has certainly caused me trouble in the past, but more often than not, it has served me very well.
A good rule of thumb: When I tell you how impressed I am with a mutual friend or colleague, and you respond by:
… then you come off as an insecure douchebag. Which you probably are.
Is this something only I experience, or is this a tragically common occurrence?
I like to imagine the decision making process that goes on in someone’s mind when they make a choice that I think is fairly stupid.
Take those stick figure decals that you see in the rear windows of cars the serve as a representation of a family’s size and composition.
Stupid. Right?
Of course they are.
Yet a disturbing number of people affix these things to their car windows with alarming frequency. This means that there was a moment in a person’s life when he or she decided to purchase these decals and thought that this purchase was a good idea.
What could they have been thinking in that moment?
“I want people parked beside me at the super market to know exactly how many people are in my family, just in case they think all this food is for me.”
“Janet’s minivan has decals like these, and I think Janet is just the coolest mother ever. I want to be just like Janet. I want my kids to love me as much Janet’s kids love her. Why don’t my kids love me like Janet’s kids love her? Why doesn’t my husband look at me the same way he did when we were first married? Was he staring at Janet’s ass at the PTO bake sale last week? How much do these decals cost?”
“I’m a baby making machine, and I want the world (or at least the people stuck behind me at traffic lights) to know it, goddamn it.”
“Joe and I only had two children, because we are responsible citizens of this planet who only seek to replace ourselves and limit our carbon footprint. I want my vehicle to reflect this philosophy in the most obnoxious way possible.”
“I’m so proud of my family. The kids. The cat. Even my stupid husband. These stick figure decals are the perfect way to show how proud I am.”
“Look! A kind of family checklist that I can stick on my car, so I’ll never forget any of my kids at the amusement park or the laundromat again.”
When I am forced to suffer through an agonizing meeting or a pedantic training session (of which almost all are), I stare at photographs like this to prevent my soul from being thoroughly crushed.
Photos like this are like a tiny light in a universe of infinite black. They serve as a reminder that the person speaking will eventually stop, the PowerPoint will thankfully run out of slides, and the hands of the clock will signal my freedom.
I don’t know how I survived meetings before I had children.
Have you heard about ShipYourEnemiesGlitter.com? It’s brilliant.
From the company’s FAQs:
We'll vomit up a ton of glitter and put it in an envelope with your recipients address on the front of it. We'll also include a note telling them how awful they are which will be folded within.
Not the best couple sentences, to be honest. Explaining where the recipient’s address will appear on the envelope (on the front of it) is a little ridiculous, and similarly, explaining where the note will be placed (folded within) seems fairly obvious. Still, these are my kind of people.
I only have two problems with this company:
Nevertheless, I plan on using this service, at least once and perhaps often, and I plan to send my glitter with the appropriate attribution.
The real question is this: Who first?
I suggested a name to my wife last night, and she said no. That doesn’t mean he or she (it’s a he) is out of the woods yet. I simply risk my wife’s admittedly powerful, disapproving stare if I move forward on this target.
But he kind of deserves it. And it’s only glitter…
I went to the Patriots-Ravens playoff game on Saturday. Though I love attending Patriots games at Gillette Stadium, it’s not always easy.
I left my house at 10:45 AM and returned home around 10:45 PM. It’s a long day.
Prior to leaving the house, while I was dressed in my long underwear, my cat vomited on me. This might have happened regardless of my plans for the day, but it happened. It was a thing.
In a sad twist of fate, my friend received word that his cat was dying while we were on the way to the game. On Sunday, his cat was put to sleep.
It was about 15 degrees during our tailgate. We cooked steaks, beans, and loaded potato skins on a propane-powered grill. Less than 10 minutes after food came off the grill, it was cold.
The walk from the parking lot to our seats takes about 30-45 minutes depending upon the size of the crowd at the gates. It’s a battle through hordes of fans, and for a large portion of the walk, it’s uphill. Up about seven ramps to the upper deck and about 75 steps to our seats. By the time we finally sit down, we are stripping off our coats and hats because we are so warm.
The temperature dropped at game time. Factoring in the wind chill, it was about 5 degrees by the second quarter. Beers were freezing. I looked more like the Michelin Man than myself with the layers of clothing affixed to my body.
As soon as the game ended, we ran for the car. Beat the traffic out of the parking lot. Stopped at McDonald's to strip down to civilian clothing, I discovered that my face was seriously wind burned. Then we began the 75 minute drive to my friend’s house and the 45 minute drive on my own to my house.
It’s a sacrifice, particularly when the game can be watched in the comfort of my home.
But I sitting in the stands for the 2015 Patriots-Ravens playoff game, and I will never forget it. I saw and heard things that I have never seen before in a footfall game.
I saw Tom Brady throw a pass to wide receiver Julian Edleman, who threw a pass to Danny Amendola for a touchdown. Strangers embraced me as Amendola crossed into the end zone. I’m not sure if I’ve ever heard the stadium so loud.
I heard referees announce that Patriots running backs and tight ends were “ineligible receivers.” “Do not cover number 34” a referee announced. It may have been the strangest in-stadium announcement in the history of the NFL.
I saw an unsportsmanlike conduct penalty called on the Baltimore bench. Though I’m sure this has happened in NFL games before, I had never seen it.
I watched a team come back from two 14 point deficits to win the game, the first time it’s ever happened in the playoffs.
I watched Tom Brady set the NFL record for passing yards and touchdowns in the playoffs.
I watched Bill Belichick tie Don Shula for the most wins by a coach in the playoffs. Next week, I hope to see him break that record.
Sure, I could’ve watched the game from my couch and been warm. Yes, I could’ve eaten a meal that did not go cold in minutes. It’s true, the hours spent traveling by car and foot to and from the game could’ve been better spent (though spending that time with one of my best friends wasn’t exactly a poor use of my day).
But I’m warm now. My belly is full. My face has returned to it’s normal color. And I have memories of time spent with a friend, watching history be made, that I will carry with me forever.
For about half a second, I had two extra tickets for Saturday’s game. My friend, who owns the tickets but was suffering from the flu, sold them quickly. But I had time to fire off some emails and text messages to friends to see if anyone wanted to join us.
Some already had plans. Some were out of state. One was anchoring SportsCenter in Dallas. But a few declined because of the cold. The travel. The effort required. The allure of the stupid box and the couch.
I feel bad for those who stay home for reasons like the cold.
You can always be warm tomorrow. You can take a nap and enjoy a warm meal the next day. But you can’t make memories like the ones I did on Monday. Sometimes sacrifice is required to witness greatness.
Maybe it’s crazy, but the 99 year-old version of myself wanted me at that game. My future self wanted me sitting in section 323, row 24, seat 5, alongside my friend, cheering on my team as the temperatures approached zero.
I try to listen to my future self whenever possible. You should, too.
Future you is always smarter than current you.