I Had To Google "Non Sequitur" For The Correct Spelling

I'm not gonna lie. I recycle my jokes. I'm not funny enough to come up with something new all the time. So if I say something that I think is funny on Facebook, I usually use it here at some point. So it's time again to reimagine some of my Facebook statuses as a non sequitur blog post. Again, I apologize for the two of you who are my Facebook friends who also read this blog.

It's okay to be jealous of your children, right? I sure hope it is. Because my son sat up in his sleep a couple of nights ago (eyes still closed) and excitedly asked, "You have puppies?!" And considering my last dream involved finding a five dollar coupon for raisins, I'm really jealous. I want to dream about puppies, too.

Note to the people who make Banquet frozen entrees: If your instructions include the phrase "stir the lasagna," then it's not lasagna. Worst 84 cents I've ever spent.

A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down. Unless it's insulin.

I never know when it's appropriate to say "apropos."

Conan O'Brien says he got this for his birthday. Now I want one too.

Fore!

A few weeks ago I told you about my older brother picking up golf. I can now reveal that this was one of the many times that the "older brother" was really me. So all that stuff I said about how bad it was going to be and how funny it was going to be to see my older brother fail, was really all the stuff I was most fearful would happen to me.

So, anyway, I played my first real round of golf this past weekend, and everyone who expected me to fail miserably (perhaps just me) was pleasantly surprised. Because it seems that I'm picking up on the game quite nicely. I mean, I'm not a prodigy by any means. I shot a 132 (that's 60 over par in case you're curious), but all-in-all I could have done a lot worse. And I mean, a LOT worse.

The group I'm playing with determined as part of the rules that your score can never be more than five strokes over par. So the highest score you can get on a par 5 would be a 10 (9 on a par 4, 8 on a par 3). This means if you hit it into the woods on your 10th shot when the par is 5, you just move on to the next hole and take a 10 for your score (let's call that "maxing out"). And I'm happy to say, that I didn't max out a single time during the 18 holes. I mean, I did take 10 shots on a par 5 a few times, but the 10th shot was always when my ball actually went into the cup. The 132 swings I took accurately reflect my score.  And most importantly I didn't fall down, sprain a muscle, fall into a water hazard, or hit anyone.

I even got par on one of the holes. In fact, I got about 6 inches away from birdying that one. And that made me think that I could probably start playing on the PGA in a few months. All I have to do now is practice and get used to tucking in my shirt and having a tan exclusively on the bottom half of my face. Because if there's one thing I learned Saturday, it's that golfers look stupid when they don't wear a hat.

Nostalgia Just Ain't What It Used To Be

Okay, this is gonna sound weird, but I just remembered Binaca. I hadn't seen it, heard about it, or even thought about it in a really long time (like as long as it's been since I called someone collect). And I don't know what triggered it, but I just remembered it. Isn't that weird?

Well, maybe you don't think it's weird, but I was curious to see if Binaca was still being made. I figured it went away like a lot of other things from that era (baggy carpenter's jeans, cell phones with antennas, decent alternative rock, etc.). But lo and behold, it still exists! And that's not all. They actually have a Facebook fanpage and a Twitter feed! And you can't argue that that's weird. Okay, maybe you still don't think it's weird. But let me explain why you're wrong.

Binaca is from the 1990s. Period. That's when Jim Carrey asked someone (via his Canadian booty) if they had any Binaca in the heartwarming 1994 drama, Ace Ventura: Pet Detective. And now the Binaca people are doing all the new social media advertising that's become so popular for companies these days. But they're from the 90s! See? Weird! It's something nostalgic trying to be modern!

Still don't agree? Fine, it's analogy time. It's like Ralph Macchio (aka The Karate Kid) at age 50, on Dancing with the Stars. Or it's like finding out that the little kid you babysat when you were in junior high is married and has a couple of children and builds websites in his spare time. Or it would be like realizing that not only do slap bracelets still exist, but there's an iPhone app to design your own (I wish).

Still don't see how Binaca being on Twitter is weird? Fine, I give up.

I Can't Commit To One Spelling For That Color

There seems to be some sort of struggle going on at the top of my head.  Because all the hair on the sides of my head is turning grey (or gray). But the hair in the middle seems to hate the very idea of changing color.  So they're going out, seppuku-style instead of facing the shame of the gray (grey) movement.  So all the hair from my forehead to the tip-top of my head is making a grand exodus. What that means is that pretty soon I'll be mostly brown with a giant forehead, mostly grey/gray with a semi-full head of hair, or some horrible combination of the two.  In other words I'll be one of the following:

A) George Castanza

B) Anderson Cooper

or C) Dick Cheney



If I had a choice, I'd choose gray (or grey). I would rather have a full head of radiant silver locks than a brunette comb-over. In fact, I'd rather be born with gray/grey hair than lose all of it.  But I have a very strong feeling that it'll be option C before I'm 35.

And that brings me to option D; buzzing/shaving my head.  I can throw up the white flag and skip all this nonsense by grabbing my clippers and choosing my own destiny.  But due to my pale skin and the dark bags under my eyes, I'm really afraid that option D would look something like this:

Soccer!

Whenever I go a long time without blogging, I feel guilty. And I always feel like I should explain why I took an impromptu hiatus. Because I've tried relatively hard not to become one of those bloggers who disappears and only returns to apologize for disappearing. So in lieu of an apology or a valid explanation, I will simply continue as if I had never disappeared.

My son started soccer last week. He's four and his instructor (me) has never played before. So given that combination, this was bound to be an interesting first team sport experience for him. And my goal was to teach him a few things that I thought would come in handy to help him perform better than the other less-athletic four-year olds. So I taught him one basic thing. And that was to use little kicks on the way to the goal and a big kick when he gets close to the goal. Brilliant advice if you ask me. Most kids that age just get in a big group and kick it as hard as they can. So that was the only insight I shared with him.

And we took him to practice and he performed wonderfully. I stood on the field with him and instructed him when to use big kicks and when to use little kicks. And my over-confident adult brain could not conceive of any possible problem with this strategy. Then came the first game.

What I failed to prepare him for was the fact that there was a completely separate team that was coming to the game. And they were going to attempt to kick the ball away from him at every opportunity. And needless to say, that was a shocker to him. And in hindsight, I should have predicted that. Because as far as he knew, soccer was just playing around with your friends and sharing. But the game started, and it was a rude awakening for him.

I imagine it was something akin to picking up golf with the impression that it was a no impact sport, only to be tackled as you take your first swing. He would do nothing but stand near the sideline and well up with tears. And that was completely my fault.

The happy ending to this story is that he got to play goalie for the last five minutes of the game. And he loves playing goalie. There's no fear of impact, he gets to purposely fall to the ground when he goes for the ball, and he gets to throw the ball over everyone else's heads. That was the saving grace for game day. And the other good news was that he had no less than 14 people there to cheer him on. So no matter what apprehension he felt during the game, it was quickly erased by the congratulations and high-fives he received afterwards.  So all we have to do now is get him ready for next week.